A View From The Fire
by FrogsRcool
Summary: I didn't even remember exactly what she had said, but I knew it had been something about Santana. I just nodded. Nodding was okay, right? But now it was too quiet and I felt like she was reading me like an open book that had no pages. Sequel to If Only You Could See What I See
1. What About Now

**a/n : Thank you everyone for being patient! :) Here's the first chapter of the sequel! :) Let me know your thoughts. Enjoy :)**

**Chapter 1 : What About Now**

Sometimes I'm not sure if it's better to know something or to have absolutely no clue if there is something you should know in the first place. Of course I know it's good to know obvious things like people's names and preferred genders. Or, that even if the two biggest rooms are downstairs, it's safer to take the small room upstairs that isn't right next door to Rachel's. However, I was pretty sure that I knew as much as I needed to know.

But there were things that bothered me. Little things. Tiny little things that I couldn't even think of right now, because that was my problem. I could never figure out what I was missing, or if I was even missing something in the first place.

I unzipped one of Quinn's bags. Quinn was sweet. She was letting me help decorate her room. She had even walked all the way upstairs and knocked on my door a few minutes earlier and asked if I was busy and if I wanted to help.

The rest of the girls had gone out to the store and Santana was at work. It was my day off. I knew Quinn had been in her room, but I wasn't sure if it was okay to bother her since the door had been shut.

I had never lived with this many people. I had only ever lived in a house where if a door was shut, then it was shut for a reason. I guess the biggest thing was that I had never lived with people who knew as much as these girls did and who I was so close with. I didn't know if it was different than living with family. Would we stop talking as much?

We weren't completely moved in. It was Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes, Santana and me. I didn't even have anything in my room yet and I was so glad Quinn knocked on my door, because I had been getting kind of bored. I had been kicking dirt across the hardwood floor that I'd found stuffed in the corner. But it was better than kicking the invisible dirt in the living room that Rachel had already swept up a million times or sitting on the floor out there since there weren't couches yet.

I had gone in my room wanting to plan on what to put where, when I remembered that I really didn't have anything to put anywhere. I had little things, like pictures to put on the walls, and a mattress. My dad was going to let me take the mattress. Actually he told me I could take the mattress but I wasn't sure whether or not he meant the entire bed. He would have said _bed _if he meant the entire bed. I think he was going to sell it.

"Where do these go?" I pulled out a stack of books and a couple of empty picture frames.

Quinn looked up from the other side of her bed. "You look tired Brittany." She reached across the bed and took the books and frames from me. "Are you staying here tonight?"

Santana was staying here. So I was staying here. I nodded.

I had been staying with Santana for the past few months. Since my mom had passed away.  
>It still felt weird to think that. Unreal. Almost like I was thinking about someone else's mom. I was getting better with thinking about it though. Before, I hadn't even been able to cry, and now I had cried twice. Once when I had sung <em>Let It Be<em>for Santana at work, because I wanted her not to be so worried about me.

And then I cried when I realized my mom would never be a grandma.

Nobody had heard me cry the second time. It was after one of Quinn's baby-miscarriage appointments that I had gone to with her. The entire time we were there I kept thinking about how she had lost her baby and the day it happened. The things she had said and how confused she had been and how awful it was to lose something when you didn't deserve to lose it. After the appointment, when I got back to Santana's house, I went and sat in the bathroom and thought about how my mom had lost the opportunity to have a grandchild.

I knew it was silly that I had cried and crazy that I had even come to that conclusion. I doubted I would be having a baby anytime soon. Or probably ever. I wouldn't know how to take care of one. Plus, I liked Santana and she was a girl.

"Hey, Britt?" Quinn spoke. It startled me.

I looked back up from the flower patterns on her bed. I swear her eyes were magnets. They were a deep, green, huge ocean of magnets that would probably be responsible for pulling the Titanic down if that were realistic. Quinn was beautiful and some of the things that have happened to her have been so sad, just like the Titanic. I couldn't remember exactly when it was, but this wasn't the first time I had compared her to that boat.

She was giving me a weird look. I hoped I hadn't said any of that out loud. I froze and waited for her to give me some sort of hint as to whether or not I had just called her a boat.

"Do you have your bed?" she asked and it sounded like it was a repeat question. She must have said something that I hadn't heard. I let out a small sigh.

I hadn't told anyone that I was only going to have a mattress. That seemed a little silly to share and a little unimportant. I didn't want to say something and have one of the girls feel awkward or like they had to offer me a spare bed that they didn't have. But a mattress could still be a bed, so I nodded. And then I paused and I re-thought her question. She was asking if I had my bed _here_, not if I had a bed in general. "I'm going to go pick it up when Santana gets here."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Quinn turned with a few of the picture frames and put them on one of her shelves.

I shrugged. I knew she couldn't see it. I guess the shrug was more for me. Not because I didn't care if she went or not, but because I didn't know if it was a good idea if she came. I didn't know if Hailey would be there. I hadn't really talked to my sister since funeral. Hailey had been at the house a few times and I'd said _hello _but that was it. Mostly we just caught each other in passing. She was leaving when I was getting there. Or I was getting there when she was leaving.

Wait, that was the same thing…I narrowed my eyes. Maybe I was tired. I repeated that thought in my head slowly and correctly this time. _She was leaving when I was getting there. Or she was getting there when I was leaving._I nodded. That was right.

Hailey was sad and lonely. I think my mom had been one of her best friends.

"I can help lift heavy stuff," Quinn turned around and winked at me. She flexed and admired her arm muscle. It made both of us giggle. "Besides, if you two leave me here with Rachel, I…," she stopped herself and clenched her jaw.

"She'll grow on you," I smiled.

Quinn just shook her head and rolled her eyes. I still couldn't believe she had agreed to live in the same house as Rachel, let alone use the room right next to Rachel's room. The rooms downstairs were bigger and had way bigger closets and I guess Quinn and Rachel had the most stuff, but still. I had been talking to Santana about how it probably wasn't a good idea if Rachel and Quinn were roomie neighbors, but Santana had hushed me and said that it was fine.

Maybe she was shushing me because Mercedes was in the kitchen with us and she didn't want people getting ideas about mine and Santana's rooms being so close together.

I still wasn't sure _how much_people knew and I was too afraid to ask. Maybe afraid was the wrong word. But Santana wanted to keep it private. I knew that. And I wanted to keep us private too, especially after what I had blurted in front of my mom. I had said things I shouldn't have and didn't know how to say and explain quite yet.

Bad things happen when you hurt people you love and you lose people when you hurt them. No way was I going to blab about my relationship with Santana again. It didn't need to be complicated and that was exactly what I had made it into with my mom.

I hadn't noticed I was staring until Quinn got my attention. She had tossed a balled up shirt across the bed at me. I smiled out of my daze and looked up from the bed at her.  
>"You really do look tired. You should take a nap." Quinn sat on her bed.<p>

It was one of those fluffy beds. A big fluffy bed with a fluffy mattress that probably felt like it would feel to sleep on a cloud. Like a water bed, minus the water, but plus fluffy stuff. And her sheets were white so it looked even more like a cloud.

"I don't have my bed," I shrugged. "And Santana should be here in a little bit."

Quinn patted the spot next to her. "Don't be silly. You can take a nap on my bed. Or at least lie down and relax. I'll wake you up when she gets here."

I looked at her bed. It did look really inviting. I had woken up really early from a bad dream and instead of falling back to sleep I just looked through some of Santana's jewelry boxes and organized the rings and earrings and necklaces inside of them. And then I had spent most of the day shopping with Rachel, while Santana worked, and now I was here.

Quinn patted the spot next to her one more time and that's all the invitation I needed. I rounded her bed and sat right next to her. With my feet still touching the ground I lay back, folded my hands on my stomach and stared at the ceiling. It had all those tiny little bumps. The kind that when you touched them pieces of the roof fell off and into your eyes.

I closed my eyes in case pieces fell off right now.

The bed shifted and when I thought Quinn was going to get up, I felt her head rest against my stomach. It took me off guard.

I froze. But only because I wasn't expecting it and my eyes had been closed. I only froze for a second and then relaxed. I moved one of my hands from between us and started to play with her hair.

"Can I ask you something?" Quinn mumbled. She sounded tired. Or maybe that was just how she talked when she was being hesitant. I knew people only asked if they could ask a question when they felt the question was really, really, important.

"Sure can," I responded. I kept my eyes closed and my hand tickling through her hair.

Quinn was an amazing friend. After everything she had gone through and everything she had lost, she was still so nice to me. She didn't leave my side at the funeral. She didn't ever ask me questions when I was having a hard time talking about things and she always gave me a lot of little things like extra coffee and would always ask if I wanted to carpool to work.

Quinn never said anything. Maybe she had fallen asleep.

"What'd you say?" I asked her. I knew it been quite a while since either of us had spoken, because my voice sounded distant and half-asleep and she stirred. I think I had woken her up.

"Hm?" She nuzzled her ear against my stomach like I was a pillow.

"Nothing," I whispered. If she had wanted to ask the question she would have.

A few more minutes passed. I started to fall asleep. I could feel my body sinking.

"Britt?" I heard my name. It was distant and not quite loud enough to make me open my eyes.

Two soft knocks sounded through the room and even though they were quiet they shook my body and my eyes snapped open.

"Quinn?" It was Santana.

I heard Quinn's door open and looked across the room to see Santana walk in.

The second she walked in the biggest smile covered my face. A sleepy, dorky smile. Too much teeth not enough eyes, but only because the room was bright after my eyes had been closed for so long so I had to squint. I yawned mid smile.

She stepped into the room and looked at Quinn. Quinn didn't wake up as quickly as I had. She shuffled and grumbled and then sat up from me and carefully rubbed her eyes so she didn't smear her makeup.

"Why are you slamming doors?" Quinn spoke. She yawned and it made me yawn again.  
>I lifted my hands and rubbed the heels of my palms into my eyes. I could lay on Quinn's cloud bed forever.<p>

"Why the fuck is there shit all over the living room still? You said you were bringing your boxes in here. We're getting Britt's stuff today and there's no walking room out there," Santana hissed. "Fucking lazy," Santana said that last part really quiet.

I pulled my hands away from my eyes and turned my head to look back at her, but she wasn't looking at me. She was giving Quinn a dirty look.

Santana must have had a long day at work. She looked stressed. I felt my lip pout out for her.

She saw me from the corner of her eye. I knew she did, because her eyes flickered to me twice and then she wasn't giving Quinn a dirty look anymore.

"You're kidding me, right?" Quinn scoffed and stood up from the bed. "I've been working for the past few days and haven't had the chance to organize." Quinn's response felt a little weird. It had taken her a second to say something.

"Soooo," Santana dragged out the word, "do it now…" She crossed her arms over her chest and was impatiently waiting for Quinn to say something.

"Excuse me?" Quinn cocked her eyebrow. And then she smiled. The smile was strange. Almost intimidating. "Ha…" She laughed. "I know what this is." She spun around, walked to her shelf, and laughed again.

Santana didn't falter. She didn't unfold her arms. She didn't even blink. But she did roll her eyes.

"Yeah?" Santana spoke like I imagine a whip would speak.

"Yeah." Quinn mocked Santana's tone. "I do…" She peeked over her shoulder, looked at Santana, moved her eyes to me, and then turned back to the shelf.

Santana folded her arms tighter over her chest. Almost like she was holding herself. And I finally understood why people crossed their arms when they got upset or uncomfortable. Hugs were powerful even if they were from yourself and people needed to feel powerful when they felt upset.

I wanted to hug her. I wanted to grab her hand, pull her onto Quinn's bed, and I wanted all three of us to take a nap. I didn't like it when they snapped at each other.

I wasn't as worried about their arguing as the other girls. Like Mercedes. Mercedes always tried to interrupt or calm one of them down. But Santana and Quinn were good for each other. Sometimes. Kind of like how rubber bands needed to be stretched a little every so often so they didn't get dry and break.

"I don't have a bed for my mattress," I blurted. I still didn't like to see them say things like that to each other.

Santana looked from me, crinkled her forehead, looked back to Quinn, and then back to me. She started to say something, but didn't actually say anything. She just moved her mouth. "Uh," she found part of a word. I probably shouldn't have just blurted that, but it was the only thing I could think to say that would distract them. "We can go shopping for one?" Santana suggested.

Quinn spoke too. She was moving and organizing books. "There's a mattress store down the street."

"Do they sell beds?" I asked. I had never bought a bed. I folded my hands in my lap and started to pinch the webbing in between my fingers.

Quinn spun and looked at Santana. They exchanged a shrug. Quinn then looked back to me. "They should," she looked back at Santana again. "They have lots of different things."

I pinched the webbing between my pinky and ring finger really tight. I wasn't sure if I had enough money for a new bed. "I can just use my mattress." That would work fine. It wasn't like I slept on the bed frame...because I slept on the mattress. I wasn't even sure if people actually needed the bed frame. It seemed like a waste of trees and wood. I smirked to myself. Rachel was a vegan and she had a bed frame. That seemed counterproductive to her stance on not how veganism was more than just food.

"Brittany, you need a bed," Quinn turned and smiled. "We'll stop somewhere on the way back from your house." She walked past me, still smiling, and then left her room.

The bed shifted when Santana sat down next to me. And even though the bed sank as she sat down, it felt like so much weight had been lifted.

I knew it was silly to be even the slightest bit worried about getting a bed frame. I knew there were so many other important things that I should be worried about. Like Hailey and where she goes when she wasn't at the house. Or like my dad and how I hadn't seen him in so long. Or why Quinn was pretending to be so happy all the time. And little things that had to do with Santana that I still didn't have answers for and didn't know if I needed answers for.

I wasn't worried about me and Santana, just about what our relationship meant.

"I don't understand why people care," I said it softer than I had intended. And I pinched the webbing between my fingers tighter.

Santana grabbed my hand and pulled it into her lap, linking her pinky through mine. Pinching between my fingers was a nervous habit I had just recently started doing. I knew it sounded cheesy in my head, but you had to pinch yourself when you thought you were dreaming to know if it was all real and I used to pinch myself during nightmares to try and wake myself up. It was the only thing that worked and I guess maybe pinching was just a comfort thing and made things seem real.

I closed my eyes. I needed to grow up and stop finding cheesy reasons for things.

…

_My sister was sitting by me. In between me and Quinn. Santana was on the other side of me. I couldn't believe how many people showed up. I had told Santana that. I told her that most of these people hadn't even known my mom and that her and Rachel and Sam were the only friends of mine that had met her._

_Santana had said that they were here, because of me and my sister._

_I wasn't sure if I believed her but it was really sweet to say, because it had made me feel better._

_The funeral had started. I wasn't paying much attention to anything, because when I tried to listen to the pastor talk it just sounded like I was trying to listen to talking under water. Instead I just stared at the casket. It was closed._

_When my dad asked me if it should be open or closed, I said closed. Why would she want people looking at her when she hadn't wanted people coming over to the house?_

_Hailey said something. I hadn't heard her, but I knew she said something because Quinn leaned in and gave her that same look she gave me when I had mumbled something and I needed to repeat what I had said._

_So I leaned in too._

_"These people are annoying, they didn't even know her," Hailey whispered and it sounded almost like a snake would hiss. "We shouldn't have done this Brittany. I told you she wouldn't have liked it." Her eyes snapped over to me._

_I had no clue what to say, but I could feel my face heating up. "She's not even here, it's not for her..." I said it before I had time to think. I had said it because Santana had told me that the funeral was for my dad and it was for my sister and it had made me feel better._

_Hailey looked at me like I had said the stupidest thing in the world. Like I was so very wrong. Like I was completely and entirely wrong and that she couldn't believe how wrong I was._

_So I tried to explain myself and whispered as quietly as I could. "Funerals are for family and friends," I closed my eyes and started to recite what I had concluded. "It's like a birthday party, because if the birthday girl was the only one to eat the cake then it wouldn't be a fun party."_

_"This isn't a fucking birthday party. How fucking old are you? Stop acting like a child and stop acting like this is okay. The funeral is for mom, because mom, is, dead," she had broken up the last three words very distinctly. "End of story. Don't treat me like I don't know what's happening, when I was the one doing your homework in high school, and especially when you say something that ridiculous. Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you can trick me with things like that. I'm not an idiot." Hailey looked away._

_My face burned even hotter. I knew Quinn was looking at me, and I felt Santana's hand touch my knee. And I knew other people had heard, because a few people cleared their throats. I was just glad that the pastor was older and probably a little deaf, and probably a little nervous and focused on speaking because I would never want to get up in front of a huge group of sad people and talk about someone that was dead and that I didn't even know._

_I looked forward and I started to pinch between my fingers. It felt so hot. Like my skin was going to melt off and like I was never going to stop heating up and I was pretty sure other people could feel how hot I was getting and I knew it was making them uncomfortable._

_Hailey wasn't stupid. I knew that. She was super smart. She skipped school and still got better grades than everyone else. But I wasn't trying to treat her like a little she was stupid, I was just trying to explain something._

_My eyes had started to water and I knew it had been because I was getting so hot._

_Santana leaned in, her hand still on my knee, and whispered into my ear. "It's okay."_

_She leaned back and from the corner of my eye I saw Hailey cock an eyebrow and scrunch up her face. I didn't look at my sister. I knew I had said something I shouldn't have._

_It helped that Santana had said it was okay. I pinched between my fingers harder. This was going to be over soon and then I could leave and maybe being outside would help cool me down a little._

…

When I opened my eyes Santana's head was on my shoulder and it felt like that memory from the funeral just drifted away. I knew it would come back, because it always did. But Santana had this way of making me feel better and not worry about what had happened, or what was going to happen. It was very easy to not worry about things when I was with her. She was like my own personal hot air balloon. I didn't need her to make bad thoughts float away temporarily, because she didn't _need_ to do anything. And yet it felt like she did a lot. That was why she was a hot air balloon, because they can float easily.

I sighed and closed my eyes. I needed to stop doing that.

"What's wrong?" She whispered and I felt her jaw move against my shoulder.

"Just thinking about stuff that happened," the words fell out of my mouth. It was easy to say things around her. She made it easy. She never got mad or upset and if I said something that was confusing she just asked me to elaborate.

She was either going to ask if I was thinking about my mom or if I was thinking about my sister or my dad.

"I don't know..." I spoke and answered before she had to ask. "It's okay though. I was just thinking." I smiled because her head was still on my shoulder. "How was work?"

Santana didn't answer right away. I think something had happened at work that made her grumpy. "It was boring. Rachel kept showing me different colors she wanted me to pain my room. And then she was asking me weird questions, like when I liked to shower and what foods I like for dinner. I think you might have some competition on your hands."

I snorted out a laugh.

"I'm serious," Santana continued. "She's crushing on me and who could blame her?"

I laughed again and laid my head against hers. "You are super hot."

"Yes," Santana nodded.

I wrapped my arms around her waist. "I wish I could hug you forever."

"Rachel's expecting me in the shower at around eight, so you have till then," Santana teased but her voice was so warm and so gentle and so sweet.

I unwrapped my arms from around her, leaned back, and gently pushed her away from me. "Stop it." I laughed as she fell sideways onto Quinn's mattress.

She laughed too.

The bed shifted as she shot back up and her fingers lunged for me stomach. She pinched and I shrieked. I was way too ticklish for my own good and she knew that. I tried to slap her hands away, but the only thing I could do was shriek and smile.

Her fingers caught the skin below my ribs and I leapt away and off of the bed. She chased me and I think that was what made me laugh even harder. The thought of being tickled was a million times worse than actually being tickled.

I darted out of Quinn's room, past Rachel's room and into the living room. Two steps later I kicked a box, stumbled, and caught myself with my hands before my face hit the floor.

"Oh my God," Quinn gasped through a muffled laugh.

"Ouchie," I pushed myself up from the hardwood floor and rubbed my palms together. "I think I got wood burn..." I started to examine the red blotches on my hands. It felt like they were on fire.

Santana peeked over my shoulder. "You got _wood_burn? On your hands...Who's the lucky guy?"

I gasped and for the second time playfully shoved her away from me. She always was good at finding things like that to comment on. Or I was good at saying things that she could comment on. Either way.

Santana grabbed my hands, looked them over, and gave me an apologetic smile. I just shrugged as if to tell her that it wasn't that big of a deal.

But then my body started to get warm. That was the first remotely sexual thing she had said to me since forever. It wasn't like that stuff never had come up on purpose. It was just that other stuff happened instead of sexy stuff. I wasn't even sure why we hadn't kissed or held hands or anything like that. I wasn't worried about it, and I guess maybe because right now was the first time I had noticed or thought about it. I wondered if she had thought about it...

Quinn looked over at me, but looked away right away. I think she knew I was blushing.

I don't think Santana noticed, because she had gone to pick up the box I had tripped over.  
>"Quinn do you want me to put this in your room?" Santana grunted as she picked up the box.<p>

Quinn walked over and peeked into it. "Utensils and pans, so just set them on the counter in the kitchen."

Santana hefted and hugged the box tighter to her chest before she headed toward the kitchen. I picked up the closest box, before my face turned any brighter. "What about this one?" It was lighter than I had expected.

The three of us cleared out the living room and put the boxes where they were supposed to go. It didn't take long. Mercedes showed up when we were halfway through and helped us move everything else.

"Five bedrooms and Rachel and Quinn somehow ended up right next to each other," Mercedes took in a deep breath. We were putting Quinn's silverware into the kitchen drawers. Quinn was in her room organizing her clothes and I think Santana was in one of the bathrooms hanging up a shower curtain. "At least we're upstairs so when craziness does happen we'll be far enough away."

"I think they'll be fine," I shrugged. I was pulling out all the forks. All the different types were mixed together in a big Tupperware tub. Knives, forks, spoons, bigger spoons, tiny baby spoons, bigger forks. I wasn't really sure why there needed to be three different types of spoons, but it was cool.

"How on earth could they possibly be fine?" Mercedes laughed and shook her head. "Have you met Rachel? I love the girl, but..." Mercedes didn't finish. She never really said anything bad about anyone. It was weird how she was so positive about people, but still so opinionated. I think it was just because she always said things that she honestly felt were true.

"It's not like they're sharing a room. And Quinn is really, really, sweet. She let me help organize her room and she's been really..." This time I didn't finish. I was going to say something about how she had been so helpful with everything having to do with my mom, but there was no reason to bring something like that up right now. "She's going with me to help get my stuff from my house in a little."

Mercedes looked up from the silverware drawer. "I thought Santana was going with you..."

My heart did a weird flip. Not an happy flip like it had done and always does when I saw Santana after not seeing her for a little. And not a scared flip, like it did when I dropped an entire case of Vodka the other day and broke all but three of the bottles. I still needed to tell Will about that...But it was a flip that meant that I was just a bit unsure of what to say or of how much Mercedes knew and what was okay to say and what wasn't okay to say. Like I was suddenly walking on super thin ice, but excited about it, because I always was excited about Santana.

I chose my words carefully. "She is..."

"They're both going?" Mercedes' voice rose.

It had startled me. But I just nodded. Saying no words was easier.

I wished I could just say everything and at the same time I would give absolutely anything to never have to talk about mine and Santana's relationship ever again. I would talk to Santana about it though. Of course. And maybe Quinn, because she obviously knew. And if I had to talk to Rachel about it, then I think it would be okay, because she knew too. But still, they didn't know much. I hadn't told them anything, talked to them about it, said anything specific, they just already knew stuff which made it a little easier.

"Well," she let out a shallow breath. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Why?" I clenched my fist around a fork in my hand. I hadn't meant to continue the conversation, but my curiosity was quicker than my brain.

And now that flip was back and my heart was flipping over and over and over. I tried to think of something to change the subject, but I couldn't. I kept thinking about Santana. Where was she? I whipped my head around to look behind me. Just an empty living room.

Where was she? I tried to remember.

The bathroom. I nodded to myself and I relaxed a little. And then I felt a little stupid for panicking like that, because Mercedes wasn't mean or scary or anything bad at all. She was amazing.

I looked back to her. She was looking at me with the most confused look on her face. Both eyebrows lifted and her mouth parted like she was about to say something.

"Girl, if you don't know that answer then there's no reason I should..." Mercedes spoke.

I didn't even remember exactly what she had said, but I knew it had been something about Santana. I just nodded. Nodding was okay, right? But now it was too quiet and I felt like she was reading me like an open book that had no pages.

"I'm getting a bed frame I think," I said. Finally I had been able to say something after what felt like a million years. But then I remembered I couldn't afford a bed frame and my shoulders dropped.

Mercedes didn't change the look on her face much, but now it was somewhere between confused and concerned. It was always easy to tell when she was concerned. But I didn't want her to be concerned. There was no reason to be, because I knew I was being weird.

"I'm pretty sure Sam is coming over tomorrow. For the moving in party," I said. I knew I had invited him over tomorrow afternoon to help Rachel lift heavy stuff, because she was moving in some dressers, but I wasn't one-hundred percent sure I had mentioned the party. I'm sure I had.

That caught her attention. Now she looked shy and bashful and went back to playing with the silverware in the silverware drawer. Mercedes and Sam weren't any closer than they had been a few months ago, but obviously she still had a thing for him. He was a good guy. An awesome guy. The best guy.

Quinn walked into the kitchen. "You ready Brittany?"

I winked at Mercedes so that Quinn didn't see and then nodded at Quinn. Santana walked in not two seconds later setting our purses on the counter. She had changed into something a little fancier. I was going to ask her about it, but she started talking to Mercedes about the party we were throwing tomorrow. So while they talked I just kept pulling out forks from the Tupperware tub and sorted them.

Quinn started to help me. She was grabbing spoons, but the baby spoons. We put them into little stacks until they were too high to stack and then scooted them to Mercedes. I was so busy pulling out forks and then separating the forks between big forks and small forks and then putting the separated forks into stacks of four that I hadn't even noticed Quinn had left. When I looked up I saw that Mercedes had also left and I had been sliding my fork piles to Santana who had been putting them in the drawer.

I couldn't help but smile as I slid the next fork pile very slowly to her. Slower than had been sliding the other ones just seconds before.

I liked her curled hair and her incredibly warm eyes that could never not be warm even if she tried to make them unwarm.

She reached for the forks, but grabbed my hand. She lifted her other hand up and held my hand sandwiched between both of hers. She leaned across the corner of the island counter and rested her elbows against the marble. "How about I buy you a bed frame, for your birthday."

It was the last thing I had expected her to say. My birthday was like two weeks away. But I smiled. I couldn't help it. I didn't understand how she always knew stuff. She knew things before I had to tell her. I wasn't sure how she knew I was out of money, or maybe it was just coincidence. Either way. Coincidence or not, she still knew things.

"I can't let you do that," I hummed and was now pretty sure I was melting in her hands. I couldn't let her spend _that_much money on me. "That's way too expensive."

"Too late, I've already decided that's what I'm going to buy you." She smiled and I melted even further.

"But it's expensive," I tried to argue even though knew I was going to lose. I couldn't say _no_ to her when she had made up her mind.

She rolled her eyes and squeezed my hand tighter. She didn't even need to say anything. She just stood up from leaning over the counter, let go of my hand, handed me my purse and then guided me to the living room with her hand on my back.


	2. Four Things That Felt Weird

**Chapter 2 : Four Things That Felt Weird**

I didn't knock or ring the doorbell when I got to my house. My dad's house. It wasn't my house anymore. That realization made me suddenly stop halfway through the door. I was only stopped for a second before Santana ran into my back and bumped me the rest of the way into the house.

She grunted.

I caught myself on the wall. "Oops, sorry" I apologized and turned to Santana. She looked a little startled. Quinn was behind her and outside still and I don't think she had seen us crash.

"It's okay," Santana mumbled and her eyes darted away from me and started to scan everywhere and everything.

I think she was looking for Hailey. It wasn't like they didn't get along, they just...clashed. Kind of like ketchup and honey. Santana would be the honey for obvious reasons. She was sweet and giving. I could go on forever about how Santana related to honey, bees and honeycombs. Hailey could be ketchup because she was the one who had told me about ketchup and lettuce sandwiches when we were younger.

"Hailey?" I called through the house and my voice felt like it shook things hanging on the walls. I think I was just used to talking inside of Santana's mom's much bigger house.

I didn't call for my sister again. I knew she wasn't here. Her car wasn't out front and she would have walked out from her bedroom by now.

It was probably better if she wasn't here. I love my sister, but I just wasn't sure how to talk to her. I wanted to ask someone about it, but it was weird asking people how to talk to your own sister. I didn't think I should need to ask questions like that and I didn't think any of my friends should feel obligated to find an answer I knew they wouldn't be able find. They wouldn't know Hailey any better than I did.

Santana relaxed when she realized Hailey wasn't here. Not in a bad way. Santana said she liked Hailey. She just didn't like that time my sister had slapped me. And Santana didn't like some of the things Hailey had said at the funeral, but I think that was just because Santana hadn't grown up with my sister. Of course that stuff would look bad if someone didn't know how sisters related.

When the three of us walked into my room it felt so empty. I didn't have a lot of stuff in the first place, but my dresser was gone and all my clothes were stuffed into black garbage bags and my TV was gone, and my mattress was tipped up against the wall. That was it. Other than a few things hanging in my closet, that was it. I had already taken the pictures off of my walls and a lot of my clothes had already been at Santana's house, but I couldn't believe how empty my room looked. It wasn't any less empty than my room at our new place, but it still…

"Where is everything?" Santana asked. She walked over to the closet and peeked into it, as if everything would be hiding in there.

"My dad had a garage sale," I remembered him telling me that and then I remembered him saying something about selling the bed frame. Or I guess he had asked me if it was okay. That probably would have been something important for me to keep...I couldn't believe I told him he could sell it if he needed to. And why hadn't I remembered that until just now?

"Britt," Santana sounded a little frustrated. I could tell she was holding back from saying something. "That was," she held her breath and clenched her jaw. "That was your stuff." It almost sounded like she was going to start crying.

"It's fine," I laughed a little, trying to let her know it was okay. I was just a bed. My dad needed the money, because funerals were expensive.

"It's not fine," Santana moved around some of my leftover clothes in the closet. I think she still thought some of my stuff might be hiding in there.

Santana knew I had needed a new bed frame before we had gotten to my dad's house. I guess I just wasn't sure why she was so upset that it wasn't here, or why she thought I had more stuff than I did. But then again, I was a little shocked by how empty my room looked. Maybe she was shocked too. "I've been staying with you and you've been helping me. And I had you and your bed so I didn't need my own bed." I stopped talking.

I had forgotten Quinn was in my room too. Not really forgotten, I just hadn't thought about it. My throat dried up and all of the words I wanted to say about me and Santana buried themselves inside of my chest. Everything I wanted to say about how I had my own section in Santana's closet and sometimes could borrow her stuff if I was missing socks. Or about how sleeping on her chest was better than sleeping on the squishiest pillow in the world, because my pillow only smelled like my hair and Santana smelled like Santana and shower since she would shower at night.

Santana turned around from my closet. She didn't look quite as worried or anxious as I felt. Actually she didn't look worried at all. It was like she hadn't even heard what I had said.

_Wait,_I shook my head and had to fight myself from rolling my eyes at my own slowness. People knew I had been staying at Santana's house...There was a huge difference between talking about staying at Santana's house and talking about mine and Santana's relationship. It was totally okay to talk about the first thing.

"What about Hailey's things?" Santana ran her eyes over me. She kept looking at everything. At my empty room, at me, at Quinn. I think she just had too many questions and so she kept looking at things that might have answers. "Is your dad selling the house? Where's Hailey going to stay? He's not selling the house is he?" She was talking too fast.

I shook my head, _no._My dad had never said anything about selling the house. Just that he was selling things that weren't needed anymore.

I wondered if he had sold my mom's stuff. Like her bed and her clothes at the garage sale. I wanted to check…

I walked out of my room. My room wasn't that far away from my mom's room. Just down the hallway and past my sister's room. Like five steps, tops.

It didn't even feel like I had taken five steps, but that was probably because I was thinking about opening the door the entire time and about what might still be there. Why was it even shut? Was someone in there, because I was positive nobody was here? Plus, Lord Tubbington was at Santana's house right now and doors didn't need to be shut to keep him out of rooms.

I put my hand on the doorknob and I squeezed it tight, because if I didn't squeeze it tight it would rattle. The doors in the house were kind of noisy.

It clicked when I turned it to the right. I didn't push it open yet. I wasn't even sure why I was being so quiet about this. Nobody was in there. But what if someone was? I let go of the doorknob and let it click back.

I couldn't decide if it would be good or bad if my mom's things had been sold. Probably neither.

"Brittany?" Quinn said my name.

"Shit!" I hissed and jerked away from her. My shoulder bumped into the wall. I hadn't expected her to be so close and when she had spoken it felt like a million little needles had tickled up my spine.

I looked in her direction and saw Santana walking down the hallway, slowly, eyes wide. She looked like she was sneaking up on me and trying not to scare me and at the same time she looked like I had scared her.

I quickly explained myself. "I just got startled..." That really wasn't an explanation, but it was all I had. And then I clenched my jaw. I didn't want them worrying about me any more than they already had been.

"I can see that," Quinn lifted both of her eyebrows.

Santana walked up, stopped behind Quinn, but kept her eyes on me.

"Wrong door," I smiled and let out a little laugh to reassure them.

Santana's face twitched, but Quinn didn't budge. Both of them studied me for what felt like an eternity. Maybe _study_is the wrong word. I think they were trying to figure out what I had been doing without having to ask me, because I was positive both of them knew I had gotten worse at explaining myself.

"Let's get your truck loaded," Santana gestured toward my room.

I nodded. I was grateful Santana changed the subject and it was probably a good idea I didn't snoop around my mom's room. There wasn't anything in there I needed.

**XXXxx**

All the girls had come upstairs into my room to help set up the bed frame me, Quinn and Santana had picked out at the mattress store. We picked one that had a headboard with white spirally bars twisting around each other.

Santana was in charge of reading the instructions, which Rachel said was code for being lazy. And then Santana said something about how bed frames were small and Rachel probably didn't even need to bend over to put it together.

I thought it was kind of clever. Santana was teasing, of course. Rachel wasn't _that_short. And Santana had been the one who had bought my bed so she had already done enough work. She could read instructions if she wanted.

Quinn helped me put together one side of the bed, and I think she stayed because she liked giggling when Santana and Rachel would insult each other. She would never laugh loud enough for anyone but me to hear. I bet she also liked taking a break sitting and listening and not having to snap at anyone. Quinn was really mellow whenever it was just me and her hanging out, but when other people were around she was restless and agitated.

It took longer than it should have to finish the bed, but that was perfectly fine with me. I think maybe everyone was going slow and talking a lot so that we could hang out longer.

Santana sat on my bed after everyone left. She looked tired. I didn't blame her. She worked all day, then went and helped me at my house, or my dad's house now, went bed shopping, helped me move everything inside of our house, and then she helped me put my bed together with the other girls. I bet if she laid down right now she could fall asleep.

"You should get some sleep." I sat next to her. Maybe if I was lucky she would be too tired to get up and she would fall asleep in my bed.

She nodded.

"Thank you so much for the bed," I wrapped my arms around her, pressed my nose into the side of her neck, and squeezed her waist. I didn't let go of her for a few minutes and when I did I told her thank you again, because I was so very thankful.

When I sat back she looked a little odd. She took a small breath and then turned to me. "If there's something you want to talk about, you know you can tell me, right?" Her eyes flickered over every inch of my face. "I want you to be okay, and I want you to know you have someone you can talk to."

I nodded. I knew that. She had told me that before. Being able to talk to her was one of the many reasons I loved our relationship so much. And her wanting me talk to her was one of the many reasons I had fallen in love with her. They were very different things.

"And if you want something to change or if you want to just take a break and think things over, that's okay too. You can do whatever you think is best for you."

"I don't need a break from work." I shrugged. If I took a break from work I'd be even poorer than I was right now. And I would miss the girls. No way would I want to stay home alone. That would be lonely and boring.

"No I-," Santana paused and ran her eyes over me one more time. "Okay," she smiled and squeezed my knee before getting up, kissing on the cheek, and saying goodnight.

When she left I organized a few things, I taped a couple pictures of me and Rachel to my wall, and then I sat on my bed and started to brush through Lord Tubbington's fur. He was nervous about being in the new house. Playing with his kitty fur was the only way to calm him down. Earlier I had to fish him out of the closet with kitty treats and baby kitten noises.

It felt weird being here. This house was so much bigger than my old house and there were way more people in it. It wasn't as big as Santana's house, but I didn't have my own room in Santana's house so it felt bigger.

I didn't like having my own room. I liked sharing with Santana.

Maybe I should take Lord Tubbington downstairs to socialize so he wasn't so anxious. I checked my phone and saw that it was midnight. It was too late for that. Nobody would be awake and I needed to sleep.

I laid my head down next to Lord Tubbington and continued petting him. I was making wave patterns in his fur. I wanted to be back in my old room. If I was going to sleep alone then I wanted it to be in my real room. This felt weird. I felt weird being here, because I shouldn't even be here. I should be with Hailey. I should be at home with her. Not here. Home.

I picked up my phone and texted her. I sent a message that only said _Hi._I knew she wouldn't respond. It was late, and she didn't ever respond unless I asked her an important question.

I set my phone on top of Lord Tubbington knowing it would scare him if it went off. But chances were it wouldn't go off and maybe he would think it was my hand and I wouldn't have to keep comfort-petting him.

I hadn't noticed I was crying until my cheek was wet from the tear stain on the sheet. I kept still. If I got up I would end up crying harder, and I might even end up calling Hailey and she didn't need to be woken up.

I just wished she would text back. Something simple, because I missed her. I wasn't home that much before when we lived together, but now her room wasn't next to mine anymore. It was really far away and I would never know if she was in her room and we would never be room neighbors again.

I heard the door open. I wasn't facing it and I didn't look. Instead, I rubbed at my cheeks and eyes in case I had to turn around.

"Hey, Britt," Santana said.

I swallowed the tears in my throat. They were thick. "Yeah?" It had come out muffled since I had been trying to cry quiet.

Crying in front of people was always hard unless it was an accident. Santana was already worried enough about me, so she didn't need to worry even more. I just wanted everything to be the way it was. That was all I wanted. Everyone and everything to be okay.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

I tried to clear my throat but it gurgled. I tried again and cleared it the second time. "Just petting Lord Tubbington. He's homesick." I put my hand back on his fur and knocked off my phone.

"Are you okay?" she whispered across the room.

"Yes," I said it too quickly. I knew I had.

Or maybe I hadn't, because she said goodnight and then I said goodnight and she left my room without saying anything else. I didn't cry anymore when she left. I just got up, shut the light off, and crawled under my sheets.

**... ...**

**...**

It was so dark in my room. I should have kept the light on. Why didn't I leave it on? I needed to get a lamp. Why would anyone ever sleep in the dark? How are people supposed to get up and pee in the middle of the night when their room is so dark?

My bed felt different. Probably because it was in a new place. It felt like it was swallowing me whole and if I tried to move it would swallow me further. Kind of like how Quinn's bed had felt like a cloud earlier, only my bed felt like a cloud I couldn't see. Like I was laying on fog at nighttime.

I should to turn the light on.

Not being able to get any sleep because my room was so bright was better than laying in the dark and scaring myself. I wasn't scared of the dark, I think. I would just rather not sleep in the dark where scary things could happen.

I let out shallow breath. It felt like something heavy was sitting on me. Obviously nothing was sitting on me, because I didn't see anything. But it would be easier to tell with the light on.

No. I needed to learn how to sleep without a night light, because I wasn't going to be able to afford a TV anytime soon. I let out the rest of my shallow breath when I remembered that those plug-in candles people put in their bathrooms lit up. I could get one of those and people would just think I was making my room smell delicious. It'd be the perfect secret night light.

I was on my back and staring at the ceiling. I couldn't see the little bumps that were supposed to be on the roof. I could only see outlines of things. I squinted and narrowed my eyes and tried so hard to see the little bumps on the ceiling, but it was way too dark.

The roof was up. My bed was against the wall. And the door was across the room. That was literally all I could see.

I closed my eyes. It didn't look any different from when they had been open, so I snapped them back open. That was creepy.

The bottom of my covers shifted and something brushed against my leg. Someone was in my bed. Santana probably. That thought relaxed me so much. I wonder if she had been having trouble sleeping too.

Now I felt guilty about her buying me a new bed. What if her offering to buy it was a really roundabout way of her asking me if I still wanted to share a bed with her? I did want to share a bed with her. Sleeping by myself was creepy. Especially, because every time I closed my eyes it felt like I could see through my eyelids.

I felt pressure on my ankles. Like someone was gently rubbing them. And then it felt like two sets of hands were wrapping around my ankles and were slowly gliding up my legs.

It wasn't Santana. I knew it wasn't. She would have said something.

I shifted.

Those hands kept touching me. I peeked down at my feet, where my blanket was covering my body, and saw nothing. No arms or body for the hands to be attached to and no shape of Santana's body that should have been down there.

I slammed my eyes shut, but just like the first time I had closed my eyes, nothing looked different. I could still see outlines of things and still see through my eyelids.

My bed shifted and I saw a shadow slither up from the bottom of my mattress. It didn't touch me. It got close. So close. Close enough to send shivers throughout my body that felt like someone was scratching their nails across the back of my neck. But it wasn't someone doing that. It was probably those hands that had been around my ankles. Just hands touching the back of my neck. Scratching and touching.

The way the shadow had slid and didn't shift my bed. The way it looked like it floated and almost slipped over my sheets. The way it was so dark in my room, and how I knew I still had my eyes closed. All of it made me start to panic.

I snapped my eyes open.

I saw everything I had seen just a second ago. Except for that dark shape. I was imagining it. I knew it. I was freaking myself out. My heart was smashing in my chest and my throat was sticky and dry.

I tried to look around my room. At first I was hesitant to look, but when I saw something I decided it was safe for me to get up.

Something was holding my feet. It was strong, because I couldn't even move. I started to panic again. I didn't understand what would be touching me.

I was waiting for those hands to slip up my body. I was waiting for that shadow to come back. I couldn't look at anything. I just stared at one spot on the ceiling. I wouldn't look at anything. I didn't want to see anything and I refused to close my eyes.

Where was Santana?

I was breathing so hard. I could feel my breaths scratching my throat. My body was fighting itself trying to decide if it should cry or keep breathing heavy. I tried to move again, and I couldn't. My feet were being held down.

_I jerked._

My sheet jumped and seconds later it felt like my skin on my foot was tearing. I coiled into myself and scooted to the top of my bed until my back hit the wall. The sheet kept moving and shaking. And then the sheet hissed.

"Shit," I whispered and started to try and uncover Lord Tubbington. It took a few seconds, because my room was so dark but I finally got the sheets off of him. He immediately jumped from my bed, thudded on the ground and skittered across the hardwood.

I touched my ankle. It was wet. I must have kicked him and I must have been dreaming. I hopped off my bed and tiptoed to the light switch. The light instantly stung my eyes. It was so bright. The walls were like looking at snow on a sunny day.

But I refused to close my eyes. Instead I scanned absolutely every inch of my room, which wasn't hard to do because it wasn't very big. I even checked where I found Lord Tubbington tucked into the far corner.

Nothing was in here. I had definitely been dreaming. Lord Tubbington had only been laying on my feet.

I sat on my bed and pulled my foot up so my heel was on the edge of the mattress. There were little holes on the top of my foot. He had bit me. My ankle was already swelling and there were scratches everywhere.

I poked by the bite with my finger and it made me flinch_. _I mouthed a bad word and balled up my foot felt like it was on fire.

There was a knock on my door. I checked for Lord Tubbington, but he was still under my bed. He was probably still scared and I didn't want him biting other people.

The door inched open and Mercedes poked her head in. She looked like she had just woken up. No makeup, hair up in a messy ponytail and her eyes were kind of puffy. And she was wearing all purple. Not that there was something wrong with wearing purple, but everything was purple. From her socks to her hairband.

"What are you doing?" She yawned.

I gave her a small smile and shrugged. Then I pulled my foot closer to me. I wasn't sure why I was hiding it, because it was probably better if I told her.

"Careful of Lord Tubbington..." I said figuring that was warning enough if he decided to dart out from under the bed and try to bite her.

"What?" She finished her yawn.

"He's angry," I shifted my eyes away from her and looked at the pictures on my wall. One of me and Santana in her car. It was pinned there with a thumbtack Rachel had let me borrow, right next to a few other pictures. Sam, Rachel, Mercedes, Tina and Mike. I needed one of Quinn. I'll do that tomorrow. I'll take a picture with Quinn and then I'll ask Will if I could use the printer in his office.

Actually, I'll take a whole bunch of pictures at the party tomorrow. That would be cool. And then we could put some of us all up in the living room.

"Brittany?" Mercedes sat next to me on my bed and pulled my attention away from a picture of Santana.

"Hmm?" I turned to her. I smiled again, this time bigger, because of all her purple.

"You should get some sleep, it's late. Don't you work early?" She looked me up and down, probably trying to find signs of how sleepy I was. But I wasn't sleepy anymore. Especially not after that awful nightmare. And my kitty bite hurt. My foot was throbbing. I tucked it closer to me.

"Okay," I nodded.

I could tell she wanted to ask or say something else, but was deciding if she should or not. People had been doing that a lot lately. Which was understandable. But I didn't want people to do that. I wanted things to be like they had been before.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" I smiled, because I was so excited. I think I even bounced a little on my bed. "I'm so excited. Will said he was going to let us have any two bottles of alcohol we wanted. Which ones should we pick? We should pick ones to make special drinks!" I felt my face get so bright. I didn't remember the last time I had been this giddy. But I liked when everyone gets together. I liked being around people I love. I liked having fun. And that was what this party was supposed to be about. Celebrating people who moved in together and who love each other, by drinking with a whole bunch of other people we like.

Mercedes smiled. I liked it when she smiled. "Quinn was talking to me about drink options. We were thinking something simple."

"Like?" I encouraged her to continue.

She shrugged. "Haven't decided. Though, she did say she made this drink awhile back that you called a Cowboy's Cream?" Mercedes lifted her eyebrow at me again, but this time with amusement.

I wasn't sure why was flustered. Probably because of the way she was looking at me, and because that name was kind of dirty and kind of had been my idea.

Mercedes rolled her eyes and stood up from my bed. "I need to get some shuteye and so do you," she walked over to my door.

We said goodnight to each other, I told her to keep the light on, and then I looked back down at my foot the second she walked out the door. It was starting to swell a little more. I should probably clean it. Or find a band aid. Rachel had put a whole bunch of band aids and little first aid kits in the cupboard in the upstairs bathroom. She always did things like that. And I should also get Lord Tubbington some kitty treats so he doesn't hate me for kicking him.

I stood and instantly my foot stung. Not enough to keep me from walking, but almost like I had a tiny nail in my foot that would get pushed in further each step I took.

I took the softest steps out of my room and down the hall making sure to only walk on my heel. Mercedes' door was shut when I passed it. And then I passed Santana's door. It was shut too.

I paused and then stepped back to Santana's door.

Her dad was a doctor. I didn't know how to clean a cat bite, but maybe she did. What if I needed medicine? I stood by her door for a few minutes trying to decide if I should knock on it. I was pretty sure she would want me to if I had a question like this. I just didn't want to wake her up.

I had an idea. I turned back to my room and limped across the floor. Normal step, step on my heel, normal step, step on my heel. I did that all the way into my room and until I sat on my bed. I searched the sheets for my phone and then started a text message to Santana.

_Hey are you awake? Lord t bit me._

I sent it.

I decided that if she didn't respond within a couple of minutes then I would go to the bathroom and try to clean it myself. I could soak my foot in the bathtub or something.

But not even seconds later I heard her door open. I heard her footsteps pat across the hardwood floor and then she stepped into my room. Her eyes narrowed from the light, but she walked straight over to me and kneeled by my feet.

"What happened?" she whispered and her voice cracked through sleepiness. I had definitely woken her up. She touched my calf with her hand, so careful. She didn't put her fingers anywhere near the cat scratches or cat bite.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," I looked down at her. Her hair was kind of messed up and she had pillow prints on her cheek.

When she looked at me it scared me, because she was nearly in tears. That was the last thing I had expected. It felt like all of the air was sucked from the room and the only thing I would be able to hear would be the next few words she spoke.

She smiled and that helped a little. Not much, but a little. I didn't know why she would want to cry. Had she had a nightmare too? There was no way my cat bite was _that _bad.

"Getting bit was an accident," I blurted. " I didn't mean to wake you up, I was just seeing if you were awake. Which I guess you were. Or maybe not since you look really sleepy. Which... was an accident too. All of it was an accident," I pulled my lips into my mouth.

Santana's lips curled into an even bigger smile and she used the heel of her palm to dry some of the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes.

"I'm glad you woke me up," she squeezed the back of my calf. "You were scaring me."

I knew my face scrunched in confusion. I tilted my head back and smashed my eyebrows together. "Why?" I asked. But I knew the answer. "Cause we haven't talked?" That was one of those thoughts I had tucked far, far, far away from my immediate thoughts, but it made perfect sense. We didn't talk about us, _because _I wouldn't talk about my mom.

She pinched her lips into a tight smile. That meant _yes._

"I want you to be okay," she nodded.

"I am okay," I said without much thought. And I was. I'm okay right now, other than being bit. It looked like Santana didn't believe me so I continued. "I just got bit 'cause I was having a nightmare. I thought Lord Tubbington was hands and he was trying to hold my ankles." The nightmare was a million times less scary after saying that out loud. "I think I hurt him."

Santana scooted back and peeked under the bed. "Will he bite me if I grab him?" She asked and lay on her stomach, keeping her arms tucked under her chest.

"He might," I said.

Santana sat back up on her knees and scooted back in front of me. "I think he's fine. You just startled him." She grabbed the back of my calf again and rested my foot on her thigh.

I was about to ask her where my glass slipper was, but then I remembered she was the pumpkin driver, not the prince. So instead I just smiled and watched her fingers gently trace the scratches around my ankle, avoiding the bite.

"We should clean this." She finally looked back up at me and set my foot on the ground. She stood and grabbed my hand and we both went to the bathroom.

I put the toilet seat lid down and sat on it and she pulled out one of the million tiny little first aid kits Rachel had bought. She crouched down in front of me again and I was about to tell her I could just put my foot up on the counter, but when she touched the bite with a warm rag I flinched so much, and I was glad I was sitting down because that hurt.

"Sorry," she pulled back. "But I need to clean it."

I nodded for her to continue.

"What else was your nightmare about?" She whispered, because everyone was still asleep.

I thought back to it. It hadn't even been a real nightmare since I had probably been half awake. It felt so real. "Something was in my room and I couldn't close my eyes."

"What kind of something?"

I shrugged, because I wasn't sure. "I couldn't see it."

She kept cleaning my foot. It hurt. A lot. Like she was sticking something inside of the bite and twisting it, but she wasn't. She was just patting it right now.

I remembered the second Santana had left my room, after helping with my bed, I wished she hadn't. "I think I had a bad dream 'cause I was upset," I said without meaning too. But I didn't take it back or even stop myself from continuing. "I don't like sleeping somewhere else alone. I feel safe when I'm sleeping in your bed just like I felt safe when I slept at home and my mom was awake in the living room. And then I cried cause I was homesick. I don't feel homesick now. I feel okay. A little shaky, but that's probably because Lord Tubbington's mouth infected my blood," I told her. Or I was shaky because I was saying things I had lately been intentionally not saying.

"Okay," Santana sat up on her knees.

And then she kissed me. Not on the cheek like she had been doing every night for the past few weeks. On the lips.

It wasn't a peck. It was softer and longer than a peck. Like hugging with your lips. And just like I had realized people hugged themselves to feel stronger, I think she was kissing me right now to make me feel that way.

When she pulled back I missed her lips, like they had belonged where they had been. It was the first time we had kissed in so long and it felt so good. I had almost forgotten how good kissing her felt.

"What was that for?" A dazed smile fell across my face.

She just returned the smile and went back to cleaning my foot. And it didn't hurt as much as it had hurt before.

"You did that so you could suck all of Lord Tubbington's cat poison from me," I decided.

She laughed and nodded and I wanted to say a million more things to see her laugh like that.

**xxxXXXX**

**a/n : Thank you everyone! let me know what you think! and if you haven't check out my tumblr!**

**frogsr2cool . tumblr . com**

**That's a good place to ask me questions and know about updates :) !**


	3. Party on Parker St

**a/n : song for the chapter - just add youtube to the beginning of the link**

**watch?v=IKn4vwNxxp8**

**Chapter 3 - Party on Parker St.**

I nuzzled further into Santana. I had been awake for a long time, but no way was I going to get up. Santana was so warm and soft. I wanted to kiss her neck, but I knew that would wake her up and I couldn't decide if it'd be sexy if she woke up or if she would be confused.

She had set her alarm, so I could lay here until the alarm went off and think about it. Santana always set her alarm, even when she didn't work. I bet she did that because I would work if she didn't. I couldn't remember the last time we had both had the day off.

I needed to ask Will if we could have a day off. But first, I should ask Santana if she wanted a day off with me. We could get lunch and drinks at Shuester's and food would be really cheap since we worked there. On second thought, I didn't want to buy her cheap food. I wanted to pay for whatever she wanted to eat, even if it was the most expensive thing in town and even if I had to pick up an extra shift or two at work to be able to afford it.

Actually, maybe I could remember the last day both me and Santana had off. But it didn't count. Everyone had the day off so we had been able to go to the funeral.

I nestled just a little closer. Sometimes I wondered why she didn't wake up. I was always so fidgety and touchy and I moved around a lot when I slept. And right now I had the entire blanket and she had a tiny little corner. She was being all nice, inviting me to sleep in her bed, and I went and wrapped myself up like a burrito and stole all her sheets.

I curled my legs up and bumped Santana. It hurt. A sharp sting shot up through my ankle and to my knee. The bite Lord Tubbington had accidentally given me felt like it was being bitten again.

"Ow," I clenched my jaw and pinched my lips shut.

I froze. I didn't want Santana to wake up yet. She didn't work today. She would still wake up when her alarm went off, but that was a ways away from happening and she had been up really late.

I smiled. I was so glad I had texted her last night. I grabbed a fistful of her shirt and nuzzled further into her. I stopped when my lips were touching the bottom of her neck. Now I could kiss her if I wanted…

"What are you doing?" Santana laughed the last word.

I jumped. The bottom of her throat moved against my lips and had startled me. I hadn't expected her to be awake. "Sleeping," I immediately responded and let out a sleepy sigh.

She laughed and lifted the arm that wasn't crushed between us so she could rub her eyes.

"Don't wake up yet," I pouted and scooted impossibly close to her. I kissed the spot on her neck that my lips were touching. I wanted to sleep in forever. Maybe not _forever_. Just until the party tonight. And then come right back here and continue snuggling.

She brought her hand down from her eyes and started to string her fingers through the ends of my hair. It felt so good. It made me want to fall asleep, but instead I settled for closing my eyes and just pretending to fall asleep. That way I could get the best of both worlds. Sleeping and Santana.

Both of us jumped. Not because someone had knocked on the door or opened it or anything like that. Mercedes had turned on her radio. It was so loud it had made the entire wall vibrate.

"What the fuck?" Santana cursed and craned her neck to look in the direction of Mercedes' room. The music was still playing, but softly now. Mercedes had turned down the freight train music almost right away.

I squeezed Santana, hoping that would calm her down. The music was nice. I wanted to listen to music and I wanted to lay here with her. And the song sounded pretty. Just as pretty as a piano sitting on the beach.

_Aint no way, for me, to love you... if you won't, let me..._

Mercedes was singing along and this will now be my favorite morning in the history of mornings.

"Is she serious?" I didn't need to look up at Santana to know she had probably rolled her eyes. "Aretha is lucky I'm already awake or this bullshit would not be okay. You know what? It isn't okay."

I laughed, because it was cute when Santana got all sassy. I wasn't sure if she knew she wasn't really insulting Mercedes. Mercedes would like being compared to Aretha Franklin.

"We can dance," I spoke into Santana's neck. And then I kissed that spot again.

Her chest bubbled with a laugh. I couldn't decide exactly why she had laughed, but I liked it. "We can't. We're laying down Britt."

"Sure we can," I lifted a little from her chest, grabbed her hand, held it out and laid it against the bed, just like I would hold her hand if we were standing and really dancing. And then I laid my head back down on her chest with my ear pressed into her. "See, we're dancing."

"Oh my God," She squeezed my hand and laughed. She kept giggling and her body had curled into me with her laugh. She was a shy person with things like this. Dancing, flowers, kisses. But I liked that she was shy.

_Oh but how can I, how can I, how can I give you all the things I can..._

I closed my eyes. It was hard to hear Mercedes when she was singing the softer parts. But those soft parts were my favorite, because me and Santana were trying so hard to listen that we had to hold extra still.

I pulled my hand from hers, slowly, until my fingers slid out from between hers. And then I started to slide my fingertips over her palm, across her wrist, up the inside of her arm. It tickled the ends of my fingers.

I reached her elbow and then switched directions and dragged my nails back down to her wrist.

I kept doing that. Tickling up and scratching down her arm. I liked how it made my fingers feel. Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing fingertips.

_And if you need me to like you, say, say you do..._

There was a knock at the door. Neither of us reacted. I was too busy touching Santana and listening to Mercedes.

The door clicked open and Rachel stuck her head in.

"Oh!" She jerked her head back out, but then slowly poked it back in. She looked like a turtle. "Sorry," Rachel mumbled. She wasn't looking at us. She was staring at the floor.

We didn't move. There was no reason to. We weren't doing anything bad or anything I wouldn't do with someone else. Maybe. I guess I probably wouldn't be tickling someone else's arm like I had been tickling Santana's, and then thinking about and wanting to tickle other places.

Santana still wasn't moving, but I could feel her heart pounding against her chest and into my ear. It was so loud and it sounded like it hurt. It made my own heart rate start to pick up.

"I was just seeing if you were awake, Santana." Rachel kept her eyes locked on the floor.

"If I didn't say anything when you knocked then I am not awake," Santana snapped. "Shut the fucking door."

Rachel nodded and then she shut the door.

I sat up. "Sorry," I apologized. Not for Rachel, but for Santana getting so anxious about Rachel seeing us being snuggly. I have listened to Santana's heart beat so many times and I knew that when it sounded like a caged animal trying to break loose, it probably wasn't a good thing.

Santana had sat up too.

But then Rachel re-opened the door.

"It's just that-" She peeked up from the floor and when she saw that me and Santana were sitting, she kept her eyes up. "Lord Tubbington won't come out from underneath the sink and I didn't think you were here Brittany, but now that I know you are, would you please get him?"

That was a good sign. Lord Tubbington knew snacks were kept in cupboards so he must be feeling better. Me and my sister used to put kitty snacks in the kitchen cupboards when my mom would get mad at him so he could hide in there and didn't have to go outside.

"Oh my God," Santana scoffed. "Do it yourself. He's just a cat."

Rachel shifted a bit. "He seems agitated."

I looked to Santana and she had one of her eyebrows lifted. "Lord Tubbington would _never_ bite anyone. I'm sure you'll have no problem picking him up. You have to snatch him quickly and surprise him," she scrunched up her nose. "He likes it when you surprise him and hold him upside down."

Santana was being way too sarcastic for Rachel to take her seriously, but I said something just in case. "I can come get him," and I smiled.

Rachel had given the both of us a gracious scoff, before leaving the room.

"Let me see your foot." Santana patted my knee.

I pulled the sheet off of me and stretched my leg out. There was a band aid on my foot, but I could easily see it was swollen. Santana sat on her knees and hovered over my foot with her hands for a little bit before she touched the edges of the band aid and started to pick at a corner with her nail. She would freeze and snap her eyes to me every few seconds even if I didn't flinch. But finally she pulled the band aid off. It didn't hurt. The sticky part wasn't touching the bite.

"Just wash it really good in the shower and then put another band aid on," she poked around it with her finger. "And if it gets infected we can get you some medicine, but it should be fine."

I nodded.

"And no more pussy roughhousing," she pulled the corner of her lip up into the most wicked smirk.

I laughed through a gasp, reached over to nudge her shoulder, but rolled and pressed my foot into the sheet. It hurt so bad.

"Oh no," Santana laughed and hovered her hands over my foot for a second time.

I squeezed my foot with both hands. Not the bitten part. "Ouchie," I said a few seconds after it had stopped hurting. And then moved my hands. For some reason I expected it to be bleeding or something, but it looked the same and I felt silly for having been so dramatic.

"You and your pout." Santana scooted off of the bed.

I was pouting? I smiled and then followed her out of the room. When we got downstairs and into the kitchen, Lord Tubbington was hiding in the cupboard, but he wasn't hard to get out. I think Rachel just didn't want to get cat fur on her clothes.

After I had pulled Lord Tubbington out of the cupboard I took a shower and told Rachel she could borrow my lint roller if she ever wanted. It was really good at getting rid of cat hair. And then I had to race to work so I wouldn't be late.

When I speed walked through the front door of work Quinn was putting away clean glasses at the bar and Tina was folding napkins at one of the booths. We were already open, but since it was the middle of the week, nobody was here yet. People showed up at lunchtime and that was like a couple of hours away.

I set my purse in the back and then joined Quinn in the bar.

"I like your pony," I flicked at the tiny little blonde ponytail her hair was put up in. She didn't wear her hair up often. "It's cute."

"Oh gosh." Quinn shook her head. "I was running late this morning and didn't have time to do my hair."

I shrugged. Her hair looked like she had done it just fine.

"I'm going to head straight home and shower after work." She put away the last cup underneath the bar. "Oh." she looked up at me like she had just remembered something. "I have an extra dresser if you want to use it."

People had extra dressers? "Really?" I questioned.

"Yeah," she picked up the now empty tub she had used to carry out the clean glasses. "There's no place for it in my room. It's yours if you want it. My dad can drop it off this afternoon with the rest of my things."

"Awesome," I smiled so big. A dresser would be perfect. All my clothes fit into my closet, but it was kind of weird putting my underwear on that shelf in there when underwear was supposed to have its own drawer.

"Awesome," Quinn matched my smile and then headed into the back with the tub.

I scanned the bar, looking for Tina. I wanted to ask her when she was coming by for the party. I couldn't remember the last time I had hung out with just Tina. It was so weird she was the only one that didn't live with us. But I guess she already kind of lived with Mike.

Tina was still sitting at the napkin-folding booth. I was about to head over to her, but someone called my name.

"Brittany the sugar bee." Sam hopped up the steps that lead to the bar. He was smiling. I bet he was twice as excited about the party as I was, because I hadn't heard that nickname in so long. He always called me that when he got excited.

"Hey!" I waved.

Puck hopped up the stairs behind him. They had been hanging out a lot lately. Ever since that party at Quinn's house.

"Dude," Puck said as he and Sam pulled up two stools at the bar, "that's why everyone thinks you're dating her."

"But she is a sugar bee." Sam reached over to pinch me, but I jerked away just in time. It was supposed to be a bee sting. I wasn't sure why he had started calling me that, but he had been doing it since we were super little. And then he would pinch me afterwards.

Puck ignored him. Instead he knocked twice against the bar with his knuckles. "Beer me, babe. I need a head start for tonight."

I grabbed two glasses, figuring Sam would want one too. "What flavor," I asked.

Puck looked around for a little before I pointed in the direction of the taps. He stood up on the bottom rung of his stool and leaned over the bar to get a better view. "You pick." He sat back down.

So I did. I picked the closest one to me and filled two glasses of it.

"So I can invite whoever I want?" Puck took a sip from his beer, testing it, and then took a bigger sip.

"Sure." I lit up at the fact that we were talking about the party. I didn't care who came. If Puck was friends with them then that was good enough for me. Friends of friends were A-Okay.

"Not that one guy." Sam swallowed the beer in his mouth beer quickly and then looked like he had to swallow and air bubble.

"What one guy?" I looked between the both of them.

"Hell no!" Puck looked a little offended at the suggestion. "No worries, he knows better."

I repeated my question. "What guy?"

"Azimio." Puck shook his head.

The door behind the bar swung open and I turned to see if it was Quinn, but it wasn't. It was Will and he had a whole bunch of papers tucked under his arm. At first he didn't look up. He headed straight to the till and started to click through different screens.

Eventually he looked in our direction. "Good morning Brittany," he greeted.

"Hello," I responded and was kind of glad Puck and Sam had been here and I hadn't been sitting with Tina. I didn't think Will minded, but I always felt guilty when he saw me doing nothing and talking with the other girls. But now it looked like I was serving customers. "Want to come to our party tonight?" I asked him. He was cool and he worked with us, so of course he was invited.

"Oh," he hushed a laugh. "No, no. I have plans with Holly." He set his papers on the bar. "Hey guys," he noticed Puck and Sam. "Long time no see." He walked over and shook their hands.

I looked between them as they exchanged small talk. It took me awhile to figure out how they knew each other until Will complemented Sam on his performance on karaoke night and mentioned to Puck that he was welcome back to his old job in the kitchen whenever he needed it.

Quinn walked out from the back in the middle of their conversation. She stood by me and listened too. And then Tina walked over and leaned over the bar towards me, probably so she wouldn't interrupt the guys talking. I stepped closer to her.

"There's a customer for you." She leaned back and gestured towards a booth. I could only see someone's shoes and knees. Tina winked.

She always encouraged me to talk to customers, which was okay since I liked talking. I picked up an order pad from the back shelf, a pen, a menu, and then rounded the bar and headed to the booth.

The second I walked up to his booth and saw who he was, I knew why she had wanted me to take his order.

Huge and adorable smile, sweater-vest, bow tie. I couldn't remember his name, but I knew exactly who he was. He was that guy who had apologized for asking me my name one night in the bar, which had been a really weird thing to apologize for.

"Hi!" I perked up. And then perked down a little remembering Quinn had said she didn't like him.

I handed him the menu and couldn't help but return and equally beaming smile that he was giving me. I liked it when I recognized people even if I wasn't one-hundred percent sure how much I liked them.

"I promise I'm not stalking you." He grabbed the menu and opened it to a middle page. "I just really want," he narrowed his eyes and pulled the menu a little closer to his face, "...a chicken and avocado ciabatta sandwich."

I started to scribble down _c-a-c_. It took way too much time to write the entire name of the orders so I abbreviated everything. The cooks in the kitchen seemed to understand, or maybe I just hadn't had any complaints yet.

"Actually, wait." He held his hand up just as I was writing the last _c_. "I'm allergic to avocado."

I peeked at him over my ordering pad. "So no avocado then?"

He held back his toothy smile, smiled with his lips pinched shut, and just nodded. "Sure. No avocado."

I scribbled down, _no_ _a_.

"And, may I get sourdough bread instead?" He asked the question as if this would be something impossible for me to change.

"Sure can." I was about to write _no c_, but then remembered there were two _c'_s in the abbreviation so instead I wrote, _no chabatta - sub for sourdough._

"Do you want a drink?" I looked back up at him.

"Uh," he looked at the menu for a second and then looked back at me. "Are there any specials?"

I was about to say no, when I remembered he didn't get avocado on his sandwich and avocado was the best part and probably the most expensive part of the sandwich. "How about... whiskey sours?" It was the only thing I could remember about him. I couldn't even remember his name, just the drink he had ordered from me a few months ago.

He looked a bit shocked and kind of impressed that I had remembered. I'm one-hundred percent sure he wouldn't be as impressed if I admitted to not remembering his name.

"Whiskey sour it is," he said.

He handed me his menu. I went to grab the coffee cup on his table, but had one too many things in my hands. Or maybe it was just early and I was being clumsy, because I always carried menus and cups. But I dropped the coffee cup. It didn't have far to fall. A couple of feet maybe, and a few inches less since it landed on the top of my foot.

The cup didn't break. It just made this weird clunk noise. It shouldn't have hurt, but it hit close to my bite and hurt enough to make me drop everything else in my hands.

"Crappy, crap, crap, crap," I sung thinking that maybe that would distract from the throb in my foot. It wasn't helping much, so I curled my toes and that seemed to help.

Whiskey Sour Boy had already bent down and picked up everything before I had the chance. He set things on the table and he was waiting for my foot to stop hurting and for me to explain something.

So I explained. "I got bit by my cat last night. On my foot." My entire body started to get hot. I hated when I was clumsy with customers.

His eyes widened. "Oh no! A stray? Or was she yours? _He_?" He organized the menu on the table and my order pad so that they were in a nice straight pile, stacked perfectly.

"He," I answered. "And no. He's mine." I wanted to run away, before I said something silly or weird. It was always so awkward bringing food to people when they were pretending you hadn't said something awkward.

"Did you have to get stitches?" He looked down at my foot. But I was wearing a shoe.

"No. It's not that bad. And he stays inside for the most part so I don't think he has cat diseases." I had spent at least a half an hour in Santana's bed looking through her phone at cat diseases, seeing if Lord Tubbington might have one, before I fell asleep last night.

"That's good." He moved his eyes up from my shoe. "Why do you keep him inside?"

I shrugged. "I just moved in with some friends and he might get lost in a new neighborhood. And I'm not sure if the animals next door are nice." I stopped talking for a second and then realized it was getting awkward. All he had said was _oh_. "We're having this party tonight, like a housewarming party, so I'll have to lock him in my room. Someone might leave a door open and he could run outside." I paused again and thought about that. "Maybe he won't. He'll hide in the kitchen cupboard. But he might bite someone and I don't want that to happen."

"That wouldn't be good. But the party sounds fun!"

"It'll be a blast!" I picked up the menu and my order pad. He handed me the pen and I scribbled down whiskey sour half price, so I would remember to charge him accordingly. I was about to leave. I had even said I was going to leave and had taken a few steps towards the bar when I thought of something.

I stepped back. "You can come tonight," I offered. He seemed like a cool guy and I always felt a little sad when people had lunch by themselves.

That must have been the last thing he had expected me to ask.

I flipped the order pad to a new sheet and scribbled down the address and my phone number. "Here," I tore the sheet and handed it to him. "It'll be fun! And there's free alcohol."

He took the sheet of paper like I was handing him the scariest thing in the world.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I told him, not wanting him to feel obligated.

"Oh, no no," he shook off the look on his face. "No, I'd love to come." He was smiling again and it made me feel less guilty for inviting him on-the-spot.

"Alright," I had to restrain myself to keep from bouncing on my heels in anticipation of the party. "It's the second to the last house on Parker Street."

"Fabulous." He folded the paper and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

"Cool." I spun on my heels and marched back up to the bar.

The boys were still there, halfway through their beers. I bumped into Sam's back and then ran away before he could do anything back. I rounded the bar, slowed my run, and walked up to the till Quinn was standing by. I started to enter the order and table number for the Whiskey Sour Boy.

"You invited Will?" Quinn hissed and watched me type in the order.

"Yeah." I glanced at her and then back at the screen.

"Brittany," she paused. "He's our boss."

"I know." I was looking for the discount button so I could mark the whiskey sour half off. "That's why I invited him."

"Okay, so..." Quinn prompted me to say more.

I didn't say anything until I had entered the order and then I looked to her. "Will's nice and he's fun and he's letting us have free alcohol. And do you think it'll fine that I'm charging this guy half the price of a drink? He's not getting avocado."

"What?" Quinn lost her train of thought. She looked at the screen. She shrugged. "Yeah. Sure. I'm sure that's fine." It took her a bit to gain her train of thought back. When she did she wasn't even near as upset as she had been. "Maybe Will is nice, but he's our boss. He doesn't want to hang out with a bunch of people half his age."

Will wasn't that old yet. "He's not twice our age." I frowned at her.

"That's not the point." She stepped closer to me. "Just...-"

Puck interrupted. "Yo, ladies. Stop teasing us. Also, I'm out of beer."

Quinn shot him a nasty look, rolled her eyes, and walked into the back. She didn't like him. I didn't know exactly why, but I was sure it had something to do with their relationship. I grabbed another glass from under the bar, filled it with the same beer I had gotten Puck the first time and then set it in front of him.

"Bartenders are so hot." Puck pulled his new glass closer to him.

I nodded in agreement because Santana was a bartender and she was very hot.

"I mean," Puck slid me his empty glass, "having a hot girl bring you beer is any guy's dream come true."

I didn't agree with the beer part, because that wasn't what made Santana hot. "Nope," I said it and instantly wished I hadn't. I wasn't even a guy…

"Then what is?" Puck was quick to question me.

That answer was simple. "I think it's different for everyone. Nobody has the exact same dream." I was impressed with myself. I didn't even come close to letting them know the reasons I thought Santana was hot.

"Well said," Sam held up his glass to me and then threw his head back to finish his beer.

The rest of work went by slow and I knew it was because I wanted it to go fast. I tried to keep myself distracted and busy and I invited a couple more regulars from the bar figuring that it would be okay since they weren't twice our age.

When I got home Rachel was sitting on the couch. She had her arms folded across her chest and was watching every step I took. I knew this look. Either Lord Tubbington had done something really bad or she was going to be upset about something complicated. Like maybe I had forgotten to mention something to her or had forgotten something she mentioned to me.

I set my purse on the coffee table and it thudded from the bottle of vodka stuffed inside. I took a seat by Rachel. When she was like this she never actually said she wanted to talk. She would keep silent and wait for me to figure it out.

"Hey, cool!" I looked around at the couch. I hadn't realized they were new until now, since couches were normally in living rooms. More stuff must have been moved in when I was at work. I ran my hands over the red leather on the armrest. "These are nice."

It seemed to have distracted her. "My dads bought them for the house," she boasted. Then she went on for a few minutes about where the couches were from, how expensive they were and then she talked about the coffee table I had set my purse on.

"Where's everyone?" I asked when she finished telling me to use coasters with my drinks. I scanned the empty living room. A few more decorations had been put up too. A vase with yellow flowers. A weird bowl on another French coffee table by the stairs. Soon enough the house was going to be really, really pretty.

"At the store," Rachel folded her hands on her lap. "I wanted to stay back and talk with you about something."

I reached forward to touch the coffee table. "These are really nice." And they were. Her dads always had fancy taste in absolutely everything. Except for movies. One time they made me watch a movie called Ben-Hur when me and Rachel were supposed to be doing a school project. It was so long and I had no clue what was happening and then at the end everyone kept saying they were Spartacus and raced chariots.

"No," Rachel cleared her throat and didn't continue until I was looking at her. "I want to talk about what happened this morning..." She finished the second half of the sentence when I never responded to the first half. "…With you and Santana."

My face started to heat up. I didn't want her to think she had _caught_ us. That stuff was private.

"Now, I entirely understand that feelings and desires are hard to control, but there's a reason you have your own bed, Brittany, and your own room. There is also a reason I specifically told you that you shouldn't and couldn't share a room with Santana."

My face was so hot.

"You are fully aware of the fact that I like her if you like her, but you need your own space. She won't always be around and you need to start relying on yourself."

My blush disappeared. "We weren't doing anything." I tried to sound defensive but it had come out sounding like I was whining. "Lord Tubbington bit me."

Rachel shook her head. "That's not the point. What happens if Santana needs to go out of town and isn't here? Or if the two of you get into a fight? Imagine how that would affect the rest of us." Rachel held her hand to her chest. "I just want you to be careful."

"I am careful," I again tried to sound defensive. I knew what I was doing and I knew how I felt and I knew sharing a bed with her was better than not sharing a bed.

But I guess she wouldn't be Rachel if she didn't comment on this kind of stuff. I couldn't think of a guy I'd been with that she hadn't had an opinion about.

Thankfully, Rachel changed the subject to the party and then we started organizing things and cleaning things that were already clean. The other girls came back one by one. Mercedes, Quinn, and then Santana. I hung out with Santana in the kitchen the second she got home. We made drinks for each other.

"Gross," Santana coughed and grimaced. She set her cup back down on the table. "What is this?" She finished coughing.

I shrugged. "Tequila and … other stuff." I didn't remember everything I had put in her drink.

"Is that what that awful taste is?" She smiled and twirled her straw between her fingers. "It's other stuff?"

"There's some peach schnapps," I leaned against the counter and peeked into her drink. I was curious. I hadn't tasted it before I had given it to her.

"Tequila, peach schnapps and every other alcohol you could find," Santana laughed. "Is there a reason you want me drunk and vulnerable?"

I made an 'oh' shape with my mouth and tried to laugh, but felt a blush start to creep up my neck. It was all because of the way she had spoken. I liked when she said things like that. It turned me on. "Nooo," I sung the word. And then I snatched her drink and sipped it, because I needed a distraction and didn't want to be turned on at this exact moment. The party wasn't even started.

But when the drink slipped down my throat it burned and I knew why she had coughed. It tasted like fire and peaches. Instead of coughing, I took another big sip and then set the cup on the counter. "That was good," I finally coughed.

Santana threw her head back and laughed.

"I can make you something better," I reached for the cup, still pinching my lips together from the awful taste. She didn't have to drink that.

She grabbed the cup before I could. "Don't. I like it." She took a small sip and smiled.

Santana and I talked in the kitchen for a while and then I ran upstairs so I could lock Lord Tubbington in my room. The dresser Quinn had mentioned this morning was already in my room. I had made a weird, startled, noise when I saw it. I hadn't expected it to be there. Her dad must have moved it all the way up the stairs for me. That was nice of him.

I went back downstairs to find Santana after I played with the dresser. That's when people started showing up. A lot of people. Everyone had a lot of friends. It got to the point where there were so many people in the kitchen that we had been slowly pushed into a corner. We were talking to Sam, Quinn and Puck.

Santana had finished her drink. The one that had tasted like burning hotness. Now she was drinking beer. I was almost finishing my third mixed drink and now was pouring shots.

I glanced over my shoulder to double count everyone and noticed Puck and Quinn standing by each other. They weren't talking, but it was still weird to see them standing this close. Then again, Puck didn't know that Quinn had gotten pregnant and then had become un-pregnant twice. He probably had a million reasons to stand next to her.

"Done," I announced as I poured the final shot. I counted the glasses one final time to make sure there were five. They were extremely full and at least another shot worth of tequila had gotten on the counter.

I picked the first one up, turned around, and handed it to Santana. And then I handed one to Quinn, Mercedes, Sam and then Puck.

"Whoa," Sam's eyes were bigger than the over-filled shot glass he was steadily holding. "Why is it so full?" He wasn't complaining, just questioning.

I picked up my glass. "I did it fast."

I caught Puck winking at Sam from the corner of my eye.

"Last one to finish has to take another shot!" Puck yelled, clicked his glass into mine and then downed his shot before anyone had time to understand what he had said.

I swallowed my shot as quickly as I could. It wouldn't matter if I had to take another one, but it was a race. I had to race and win.

"Loooo-pez!" Puck pointed at Santana. She was covering her mouth with her hand and had just swallowed her shot, definitely last. Before Santana had gotten rid of the cringe on her face, Puck poured and handed her a second shot.

She held up one finger. "One second."

"I can take it if you want?" I asked. She didn't look like she wanted another one.

"Hell no!" Puck interrupted. "Don't be a pussy, Lopez! Drink up!" He reached over and nudged the bottom of the glass up towards her mouth.

She slapped his hand.

I heard Quinn giggle and Sam do a bad job at holding back a laugh.

A hand grabbed my elbow. I turned to see Rachel, wide eyed and panicked. "Can you come with me?"

She already was dragging me away from everyone before I answered. I let her pull me out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into her room. She flicked the light on and slammed the door shut. At first I thought she was angry at me, but then she started pacing back and forth.

"What's wrong?" I started to panic, because I couldn't decide if I needed to panic or not.

"Finn." She didn't elaborate. She just said one name and kept pacing. And pacing. And pacing. And then she crossed her arms and plopped down on her bed. It was all very intense.

I looked around the room for Finn, but I knew he wasn't in here. I wasn't sure if I should ask her to explain or not. Had Finn been talking to another girl? I knew he and Rachel weren't _official _yet, but still.

Finally Rachel took a breath. "I invited him over."

That was it…? I looked around her room wondering if there was a reason she was telling me this in here and I just hadn't figured it out. I already knew Finn was coming over. There had to be more to it. "Is that bad?" I picked up the piggy bank from her night stand. It was heavy, so I set it back down. I didn't want to break it on accident.

"I invited him and added that he had a place to stay if he didn't want to drive home after drinking." She clenched her skirt with her fists.

"Oh." That made more sense. Staying the night with someone is a huge deal. At least when it's someone you really care about. I know staying the night with Santana is one of the best things in the world. "Well," I ran my eyes over her. "Okay. That's fine."

"Brittany, it's not fine. I know the implications of an offer like that and I am not ready to fill those implications." She stood up, practically ran over to the window, peeked out of it, and then marched back to her bed and sat down.

Rachel didn't ask for my advice a lot. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time she had asked me anything remotely this important. It was cool. Bad that she was panicking, but cool that she trusted me enough to ask me.

"Uhm." I walked over and sat on the bed with her. Rachel was just nervous. Sometimes she overthought the really big emotions and feelings and that was perfectly fine. "First of all, you don't have to fill any implications. No filling of anything unless you want it to be filled." Rachel snapped her eyes open after I said that. "And second of all, he has to sleep on the couch. Remember your rule about people sharing rooms?" I shrugged.

"Right." She nodded to herself. "What if he's mad?"

"Not possible. You offered him a place to stay and you're giving him free alcohol _and_ you're wearing your shortest skirt with stockings that don't go very high. He should be the happiest boy in the world."

"Really?" Rachel started to calm and smiled into her lap.

That had to be some version of a triple threat. Nice, generous, and physically attractive. "Yes."

"Okay," she said, took a deep breath and stood up. "He should almost be here."

I stood up with her and watched her flatten her skirt. When she was ready I followed her out of the bedroom.

The living room was overwhelming. There were a lot more people now than I had remembered there being. I must have not been paying attention earlier. Rachel zipped away into the crowd the second her door was shut and locked.

I looked for the first person I recognized. Sam. Thank goodness. He was sitting on the couch all by himself. I squeezed through the crowd and plopped down next to him. It took me a minute of shifting and adjusting to get comfortable, because being surprised by that many people had made all of my muscles freeze.

He slung his arm over my shoulder and pulled me into his side.

I hugged him back. "Why are you sitting by yourself?" He was warm and it made me want to close my eyes.

"Just sitting." He shrugged, let me lean out of the hug, but still kept his arm slung over me. "Is everything okay with your friend? Rachel, right?"

"Yes and yes." I shifted and crossed my legs. I still felt a bit tense.

"Where's your drink?" He looked down at my hands before handing me his cup. My drink was in the kitchen and was mostly gone. Definitely not full enough for me to get up and go get it.

I took a sip of his drink. It was beer and tasted really weird after what I had been drinking and the shot I had taken.

"Is your special friend here tonight?" he asked. He had to speak up and lean in. Someone had turned up the music.

My heart spun from the question. We hadn't talked about my _friend_ since karaoke night months ago. I hadn't even thought about the conversation that would obviously result from him singing a love song with me to a secret person.

Santana was here, so I shook my head _yes_. Part of me wondered if he knew it was Santana...He would say if he knew. I forced myself to not worry. Sam wouldn't push the issue. If he had really wanted to know he would have asked way sooner than now.

"How come you're not with this special friend?" Sam leaned into me and shook me by my shoulder.

It made me smile, but I still wasn't able to think of something to say, so I shrugged.

"What's wrong?" He leaned back, pulled his arm out from around me, and grabbed his knees with his hands. "Are you okay?" He leaned in. I had known Sam long enough for him to recognize when I was uncomfortable with something and then question it. That was the difference between most friends in the past, and Sam. Sam always asked.

"Nothing's wrong," I said, because nothing was wrong.

"So then what's going on with you and this friend?" I felt his eyes roam all over me.

"I don't know," I said. It was honest. I took a breath. Was it okay to say something? I wasn't entirely sure what was going on with me and Santana. I knew I liked her. And I knew she had kissed me last night after we hadn't kissed in forever and then this morning I kissed her neck a little. So that was a good thing. But I didn't know if we were together or if we were friends with benefits or what we were. And I guess it hadn't really bothered me until Sam started asking and I didn't have an answer, even if I was comfortable enough giving an answer in the first place.

I wasn't going to say something.

"Why don't you know?"

I shrugged. But he was wanting me to answer the question, not shrug. "I don't know why I don't know. It's confusing. Maybe. I don't know, I guess it's just weird. Not bad weird. Just different." I had paused between each sentence and thought about what to say.

I didn't know why I was so unsure of mine and Santana's relationship. Sharing beds, not sharing beds, kisses on the cheek but then kissing on the lips last night was confusing. Maybe. No. It wasn't confusing. But it was weird that none of my feelings for Santana matched my emotions and actions anymore. Loving Santana shouldn't equal paranoia about our relationship and me spending most of my time being quiet.

I took in a breath to stop my thoughts from getting too out of hand.

Sam put his hand on my knee and squeezed.

"What's wrong?" Santana sat on the coffee in front of us. She had come out of nowhere.

My eyes bounced from the red cup in her hands, to her knees that were pinched together, to her face. I swear she was the prettiest here. She was prettier than that song Mercedes was singing this morning.

Sam wiggled my knee back and forth and then pulled his hand back to his own lap. "Brittany's just feeling a little down about her special friend."

My throat caught and it felt like my heart had stopped. All the air in my chest was stuck.

I flicked my eyes to Sam, and then back to Santana. Maybe it would be fine. But then I watched Santana's face fall. It was the way someone's face fell when they would forget to hold their expression, because they had heard something they couldn't quite believe they had heard.

"She's just unsure and confused," Sam rubbed my back as a way to comfort me, but it wasn't helping. " I was just going to tell her that she has amazing friends and we'll be here for whatever she needs."

Santana tore her eyes from me to look at him. She held very still, barely nodded a yes, and then mouthed the word, _right_.

It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me, even though I was still able to breath. I kept trying to catch my breath and caught nothing since there was nothing to catch. It made me feel incredibly empty.

"Uhm," Santana stood up. She flattened her dress with the hand that wasn't holding her cup. It reminded me of how Rachel had flattened her skirt. "I, uh, need to…pee." Santana set her cup on the table and then left.

She just left.

She couldn't just leave.

I jumped up from the couch, gave Sam his cup back, and then started to follow her. Everything inside of me was running a million miles per hour and twisting. Something I had said hurt someone I loved. I didn't want her to be hurt and I wanted to scream and explain, right now. But she was walking away.

I was trying as hard as I could to reach her, and I couldn't. All I could do was squeeze through people and make sure I wouldn't lose track of her. There were so many people.

_Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God_... I was whispering it to myself over and over and over again. _No. _ I didn't understand why I had to be such a blabbermouth and not think before I said things. I had known I shouldn't have been talking about that with Sam. I knew it. And I had done it anyways.

I followed her through the living room and down the hall. She reached for the handle on the bathroom door, shook it, cursed, and then gave up. That's when she looked back at me.

I didn't know what she was thinking. At all. But I was angry. Both at her and at myself. I wanted her to have let me explain what I said to Sam before she had gotten hurt.

She was fighting so hard not to cry.

My face sunk into the most painful frown. What the hell was wrong with me?

I didn't want her to put up walls. I didn't want to lose any part of our relationship and most importantly, I didn't want her to think that she couldn't trust me.

"Santana," I huffed her name. I was out of breath. "Wait." I was desperately trying to think of something to say, but I kept thinking of how pretty she had looked when she sat on the coffee table and then thinking of that hurt look on her face seconds later.

She didn't say anything, but she didn't look away from me either. She kept her eyes locked on mine. My heart started to beat so hard that it was hurting my chest. I felt clammy and was still angry. And then I got angrier because I was angry in the first place.

"Sam didn't say what I meant," my voice was shaking. "He asked about my special friend, _you_, and asked why I wasn't hanging out with them and I didn't want to say it was you. And then he asked about it more and I just said that I wasn't sure, because I wasn't sure what to say."

Was that enough? Did I need to explain more? I tried to remember what I had said, but my words were getting jumbled and I couldn't remember the difference between thoughts and words spoken at this exact moment.

She kept her eyes locked on mine and it felt like forever passed before I said something else. "He didn't say it right." I could feel my body panicking on the inside and it showed in the way I spoke, but that was it. I was trying hard to make sure I looked very confident about what I was saying. "It wasn't right, I promise."

She swallowed and that was the first time she had moved.

"I promise," I repeated. I knew she already believed me, but I was stuck on repeat. I had worked myself up too much. Way too much.

She let out another breath, "Okay." Her voice was soft.

"I promise. I'm so sorry." I said it again.

Santana scrunched up her forehead and stepped toward me. She shook her head again and then rolled her eyes, but not at me. "I shouldn't have made any assumptions, Britt. I know you and I... I lo-, just...you don't have to apologize. I was way out of line."

Was she crazy? Of course I had to apologize.

The bathroom door opened and Quinn stepped out. "Freak out much?" She snapped at Santana who had gone doe-eyed. "You don't need to rip the door handle off."

Santana covered for her reaction. She mumbled a bad name and bumped past Quinn into the bathroom.

I watched the door click shut.

We weren't finished talking were we…?

That was one of the worst feelings in the world and the mean thing hadn't even happened to me. There was no way Santana should have said I didn't need to apologize. Apologies were the first step. I had known that since I was little.

"Everything okay?" Quinn asked.

I wanted it to be. Yes. I wasn't sure what the right answer was so I didn't give her one. I felt naked without Santana accepting my apology and especially since she had said it wasn't necessary.

"We should go back out to the kitchen?" Quinn suggested. I knew Quinn was waiting for an answer. But she said something else before I gave her one. "I need another drink, you should make me one."

It stopped my daze. "We could take shots." I tried to grin from ear to ear. I stepped close to the door and spoke through it. "Santana, want to take shots?" My voice shook at the end.

"Okay," I heard her respond. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

She probably didn't want us listening to her pee, but I didn't want to leave her by herself. But maybe she wanted her space for a second so she could think. Just like people couldn't instantly stop crying, people couldn't instantly stop being hurt.

Quinn linked her arm through my elbow and then walked me to the kitchen before I could decide anything or say anything.

The house was getting more and more packed. On the way I saw a few customers from work I had invited. I told them they could grab a beer from the fridge if they wanted and I said I was glad they had shown up. I was surprised at how easily words fell from my mouth when talking, especially after what had just happened. I assumed it was because I was feeling a little tipsy.

When we got to the kitchen counter I pulled out the tequila from the cupboard and then filled three shots. _Sorry for confusing you_. That could work.

Quinn held up a finger as if to say 'one second' and then she squeezed her way to the fridge. She was going to grab something from it.

_Sorry for confusing you_ was good. I did confuse Santana and I was sorry.

I waited at the counter with the three shots I had poured. I picked one up and took it. It tasted sharp and stung the back of my throat. Will told me once that tequila was made from cactuses or something like that, so I guess this was what a cactus tasted like, which was probably why people didn't eat them. I pinched my lips together and pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep the tequila from coming back up.

I peeked over my shoulder and saw Quinn was still digging through the fridge.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I spun around to see it was Finn. Tall with his same goofy smile. He was holding his hand up waving at me, so I high fived him. "Want a shot?" I asked.

"Sure!" His goofy smile got bigger. I turned, grabbed the two shots that were still full and handed him one.

He clicked his glass against mine and drank it right away, but I had to take a breath and swallow the spit that had been building up in my mouth before I could take mine.

"Ugh," he twisted his face and set the shot glass on the counter.

I think I had gotten used to it. After I drank mine I realized it didn't nearly taste as bad as his grossed out face was making it seem. I set my glass next to his.

"Did you find Rachel?" I yelled so he could hear me.

He shook his head.

I scanned the kitchen, but I knew she wasn't in here. And then I scanned it again to see if Santana was here yet. "Rachel's probably in the living room, or out back with Mercedes and Tina and Mike and other people."

He gave me two thumbs up, thanked me and then headed out to the living room. I turned around and filled the three glasses with another round of tequila. It spilled a lot at first, but then I was more careful. As I finished filling the third glass, someone's hand touched my back. I looked over my shoulder. It was Santana for real this time.

"Whoa," Santana said and pressed her hand into my lower back and pushed me against the counter. "Are you okay?" Her face pinched together and I grabbed the counter with one hand.

I nodded. I was fine. Just tipsy. I smiled. That was why they called it tipsy.

"Maybe we should hold off on the shots..." She kept her hand against my back and I was just so glad that she still wanted to put her hand on my back.

I ran my eyes over her and that feeling that had been eating a hole in my stomach seemed to die down. She was talking to me. She was touching me. "Sorry for confusing you," I repeated what I had been repeating in my head since she had been in the bathroom.

She scrunched up her face again and even smiled a little this time. "Britt, it's okay. It was a misunderstanding."

"I know," I said.

I think that was as close as I was going to get to her accepting an apology. But it was okay. She said it was okay and I could tell that it was okay. "Okay."

Quinn walked up and set three sliced lime wedges on the counter right next door to the shots and then set down a salt shaker too.

"Quinn brought us salt and lemon." I looked at the counter and then back to Santana. Those weren't lemons. "Lime." I corrected myself.

"What's wrong?" Quinn leaned in to Santana. "Are you feeling sick?" Quinn looked at me.

"No," I didn't mean to yell. I wasn't yelling. I was just talking loud, because I wanted them to know I wasn't sick at all. "I'm fine," I lowered my voice. "You already cut the stuff and look, it's poured," I pointed.

Santana and Quinn exchanged a short glance. "I did already cut the lime," Quinn looked at me. "We can save the shots for later?"

"Nope." I popped my lips while saying the word. "Let's take them."

"Well, just be careful," Santana scratched her nails against my back and then pulled her hand away. She kept close though.

I picked up a lime. Santana had to explain how to do it. Salt, tequila, lime. It made the shot taste good and a lot less like a cactus. I didn't even cringe, but I took the lime out of my mouth, because it was kind of way too sour.

"We should go find Tina," I said as I stacked all three shot glasses on top of each other and put the tequila back in the cupboard. "She's probably outside." I didn't know that for sure, but it seemed like a good place to start. Tina wasn't a huge fan of crowded living rooms and crowded kitchens.

"Sounds good to me," Santana agreed. She grabbed two plastic red cups from a stack on the other side of the counter and then filled them with water. One for her and one for me. She asked Quinn if she wanted one, but Quinn grabbed a beer from the fridge.

I could probably talk to Santana tonight, after everyone left, and make sure that she was really, really, okay with what had happened. She looked fine, but when I kept looking at things my brain took a second to catch up with my eyes and I knew it was because of alcohol.

The three of us went outside, me in the lead. The backyard was probably the coolest part of the house. It was huge! And we lived on a private road so the neighbors were far away. We could be loud and it would totally be fine. But people weren't being that loud. They were just talking. Puck was smoking with some girl I didn't recognize and he was talking to Mike and Finn. Rachel, and Tina were talking to each other right next to them. I was glad Finn had found Rachel.

I walked straight for Tina. This was the first time I had seen her all night. She hadn't been here long, because if she had been she would have come inside to find me. I hugged her and then I winked at Rachel, because of Finn. I looked away before she could give me a dirty look.

Where was Santana?

She was on the other side of Quinn. I almost walked over to her, but that might be a little rude to Tina. Besides, I wanted to talk to Tina. I wanted Quinn to stand by me and Santana and I wanted to talk to Tina and I wanted to tease Rachel, because how often did I get a chance to tease her about a boy? Only encouraging teases though.

"I love what you've added since the last time I was here," Tina spoke to all of us.

Where was Mercedes?

I looked around. She was talking to Puck. Huh…I wondered why I hadn't seen her at first. Was it weird that they were talking? Why was she standing by smoke?

I turned my attention back to Tina. "Did you see my room?" I knew I sounded overly excited, but I didn't care. My room was something to be overly excited about. "Santana bought me a bed frame and Quinn is letting me use her huge dresser. I don't even have enough clothes to fill it." I turned to look at Quinn, because I hadn't thanked her yet. "Thank you for the dresser."

Quinn laughed a little. "You're welcome."

And then I looked to Santana and smiled at her and I was pretty sure she knew that smile was a thank you for the bed.

"I haven't seen upstairs since the last time I was here," Tina responded. "It's you and Santana and Mercedes up there right?"

"Mmmhmm," I hummed and then took a sip of my drink. It startled me. I had forgotten I had water. But I still drank it. I talked with them and drank the entire cup of water and now I was crinkling it between my hands. Not loudly. Slowly and softly and bending it.

"There you are," I heard someone say from behind us. I turned to see Sam. I got scared for a second, because Santana was here too, but I guess it wasn't his fault that my special friend was Santana. He put his hand on my shoulder. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He walked me towards the back door and then spoke quietly so that only I could hear. "Your friend is here." He opened the door and held my hand as I stepped inside, like I was stepping into a carriage. "He's in the living room. He was asking for you."

I had no clue who Sam was talking about. But I guess I had invited _a lot_ of people to the party, so it wouldn't be weird if someone was looking for me. Except it might be weird if it was Will. I stepped inside the house and Sam shut the door behind me. He stayed outside.

Yeah, it would be kinda weird if Will had shown up. Not that he was weird, because he wasn't… I just only ever talk about work with him and he wouldn't know anybody and he would be older than everyone.

I walked through the kitchen and into the living room. When someone walked by me I took too big of a step and grazed my shoulder against the wall.

Who was I looking for? I stood and tried to find someone and then found myself looking for Will. People acknowledged me standing. They'd say sorry and then hi if they accidentally bumped me. Or they would just say hi if they didn't bump me. Standing inside was fun.

Whiskey Sour Boy was here. He was standing by the stairs, alone, holding a beer. So I walked over to him. I had totally forgotten he was coming. And then I reached him before I could remember his name. I considered calling him Whiskey Sour Boy for a split second and then decided against it.

"Hey!" I said. I stopped and clenched my teeth, because I had almost walked into him.

"There you are." He smiled and stood up from leaning against the stairs. "I was talking to your friend Sam. He's really cool."

"Sure is!" I bounced. I reached forward and looped my finger in his suspenders. I pulled it out and then let it go. It didn't snap him hard, 'cause I hadn't pulled that hard. "I like your suspenders." I admired the rest of his outfit. He wore really cool clothes and had really cool glasses. He was cool. I was glad he had already met Sam. They could probably be good friends.

"Thank you." He looked down at my outfit. I was wearing the same thing I had been wearing all day. "You look lovely yourself. I'm digging the horses." He pointed at my shirt. It wasn't actually a shirt. It was a sweatshirt I had cut up so now it looked like a shirt. And by that, I mean that my sister had cut it when I asked her if she could. She was good with that kind of stuff. "My sister made it for me," I mumbled. I was looking down at my shirt with my chin pressed to my collarbone.

"And the flowers on your pants." He pointed to my pants.

"Thank you again." I glanced down at my jeans.

"Are you not drinking?" he asked.

I held up the empty, crumpled, cup in my hands. "I am. I finished my drink." I looked at his cup. It was almost full. "What are you drinking? Did you want to take a shot?"

"Beer," he answered and held his cup up to offer a sip.

I took it, took a few gulps, and then he agreed to take a shot with me. I handed his cup back and made him follow me to the kitchen.

I went straight for the cupboard and un-stacked the shot glasses that I had stacked earlier. I slid him one, and left one sitting in front of me. Then I grabbed the tequila out of the cupboard and stopped before I took the cap off. I slid that to him too. "You should pour." I didn't want to spill any more of it.

My hip bumped the counter and I decided it was easier to keep leaning against it. So I did.

He poured two shots. Then I remembered about the lime, told him to wait, and made my way through everyone to get to the fridge. Lime slices were uncovered on a plate. I grabbed two and went back. I handed him one, made him make a fist, and then put salt on his hand.

He licked, drank and bit. I didn't even have to tell him the order.

I copied him.

"Yuck," I said it out of habit. I took his shot glass and stacked it with the rest of the shot glasses. And then I put the tequila in the cupboard.

"What were you drinking before?" He leaned in.

I looked for my cup. It was sitting on the counter and still squished. "Water," I told him.

"Do you want another water?" He reached for a brand new cup from the clean stack behind him.

I didn't want water. "Not water." I looked to the fridge. I didn't really want beer either. It tasted funny after taking shots. "We can make something," I suggested.

"Sounds good." He smiled. "What would you like? I'm not bartender so you have to take it easy on me."

"Uhhhh." I was smiling at what he had said. It didn't really matter what he made. "It doesn't matter." I picked up my bitten lime and started to pinch it between my thumb and pointer finger. I stopped when juice squeezed out. Sticky hands. I stuffed the lime inside a shot glass. "Want to take a shot?" I turned to him.

"Another?" He cocked his head and was smiling. "You don't want to make a drink?

"Oh, yeah. No, let's make something." I waved my hand at what I had said.

I glanced around the kitchen. And then I opened the tequila cupboard. There was more than just tequila in there. "Did you know tequila is cactus juice?" That wasn't true, but I didn't correct myself, because I didn't even hear his response. People in the kitchen were really loud.

I pulled down all the alcohol I used in the drink I had made for Santana earlier. I would make one for her and one for me. "We'll need another cup for my friend," I told him.

He reached and grabbed another cup.

"Just pour these in there," I pointed at all the bottles on the counter. "Like, fill it halfway." I darted away to the fridge to get soda. The limes were still uncovered. I put them in the vegetable drawer so they wouldn't go bad. Quinn would want them later.

I brought the 7up back and filled both cups the rest of the way.

I had no clue if it tasted the same as the first time, but it tasted fine. I put the soda and alcohol in the tequila cupboard.

"How's your foot?" he asked.

"You mean my bite?" I lifted my foot up and bumped my hip into the counter again. I still had my shoe on. "Can't see it..." I set my foot down. "It's okay. Doesn't really hurt right now."

"Good." He took a sip of his beer.

"Did you want to see him?" I asked. I figured since I had told him that entire story at work the least I could do was show him Lord Tubbington. He had seemed interested. I could show him Lord Tubbington and at the same time check to make sure Lord Tubbington hadn't pooped all over everything. Sometimes when I left him locked in places for too long he forgot to use the litter box. And then I could bring Santana her drink.

"Absolutely," he responded.

So I headed out of the kitchen, checking behind me a few times to make sure he was following, and then reached the stairs. I took two steps at a time and had to stop when one of the drinks spilled on my hand. I held it steady before continuing, one step at a time.

The higher I got the quieter it got. Nobody was up here. At the top I handed the Whiskey Sour Boy one of the cups in my hands, opened my door, turned the light on and stepped in.

"Can you shut the door?" I didn't want Lord Tubbington to escape. He might go downstairs and get kicked on accident and then think he would have to bite someone to stop being kicked. I set my cup on Quinn's dresser and looked back at my whiskey sour friend.

He shut my door.

I started by looking in the closet. Lord Tubbington wasn't there. Then I checked under the bed. I knew he had to be there, because that was the only other place he could be. I bet if I had left a drawer pulled out in my new dresser he would have been in there.

I was lying on my stomach and could see him curled back in the far corner. I clicked my tongue and patted the floor for him to come out.

But he wasn't coming.

"He's under here," I looked up. "I don't think he wants to socialize." I sat up on my knees because my head was starting to feel heavy.

"That's okay." He got down next to me and looked under the bed.

I got up on the bed. I didn't want to get sick. I was feeling dizzy and it was because I had just hung my head upside down to try and lure out Lord Tubbington.

Then my whiskey sour friend sat up. "I'm impressed." He sounded impressed. And then he got up all the way, set the drinks on the dresser, and sat next to me.

The mattress shifted with his weight. I pushed my feet harder into the ground to keep myself from getting any more dizzy. Spinning, stopping, spinning a little more.

"Did you want to hang out in here, or head back down?" he asked.

I took a breath, trying to stop the spinning. My eyes were locked on a spot on the dresser. "Here, for a second."

"Really?" I heard him question it, but I was holding my breath so I didn't respond.

I shifted my eyes to the fancy handles on the dresser. I wondered if it was expensive. Probably. _Stop_. No more eye shifting.

I filled my chest with hair.

My whiskey sour friend leaned in to me. Face first. It made me lean away.

Had he just tried to kiss me? "No kissing please," I mumbled. My voice sounded distant. I looked in my lap and then at the floor because maybe he had reached for something. Where were the drinks? I looked to him. He had frozen. My vision was moving too slow for my eyes.

I scooted away a little. I didn't want to kiss in here. Not unless it was Santana. Where was Santana? That icky feeling from earlier started to come back. It made me want to press my fingertips into my head and slam my eyes shut.

He said something. I didn't hear it. "Sorry for confusing you," I mumbled again. Not him. Maybe. I meant, sorry for confusing Santana. This would confuse her.

The door opened.

I snapped my attention to it.

It was Quinn. Why? I looked at him and then back at Quinn. I balled up my fists and tried to scoot away from him even more, but my shoe slipped across the hardwood floor. I scooted again. I wanted to hide.

"What is this?" She sounded so mad. "Artie?" Get the hell out of here." She didn't yell, but she didn't have to yell.

Artie. That was his name.

Artie jumped up from the bed. I sat there and pretended they couldn't see me. I know that was stupid to do, but I did it anyway.

Quinn told him to get out again. She said a lot of stuff really fast. "Why are you in my house? And she's with someone." I heard the last part of what she was saying. She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him to the door.

I knew he was looking at me as he was pulled from the room, but I didn't look at him. I didn't know if looking would be bad.

It was silent when Quinn shut the door behind him. I kept swallowing my spit, because my mouth felt dry. I was looking at the wall and it was spinning so much.

"Why was he here?" Quinn hissed and walked toward me. "Are you okay? He didn't try anything did he?"

Quinn knew I was kind of with Santana. Pieces of what she had said to Artie were working through my mind, in slow motion, and out of order. Quinn didn't like Artie. She had told me that before. I shouldn't have invited him. I closed my eyes and it made it look like the lights were off. It felt like she couldn't see me as much.

But closing my eyes made me start to talk. "He's nice and I gave him a whiskey sour today, because that's what I gave him when he told me his name. And I was just showing him Lord Tubbington. I saw him at work today and I invited him up here after we talked about me getting bit. He tried to kiss me," I took a breath and it shook. My brain was now working _way _too fast and skipping entire thoughts. "I was only showing him Lord Tubbington." I wiped my palm against my cheek. It was very wet. I was getting frustrated. "He tried to kiss me and I didn't want to do that." I was angry for the second time tonight. I knew I wasn't even close to saying something Quinn would understand and I knew I wouldn't be able to. I wiped my cheek again with the palm of my hand and kept going. "I don't want to confuse-" I ran out of breath and had to stop talking abruptly. "Maybe we should have let Lord Tubbington go outside then this would have never happened and he could have hid on the fence while everyone was here. And then Artie wouldn't have thought we were supposed to kiss." It sounded weird saying his name.

Quinn sat next to me on the bed. I didn't blame her for not saying anything. Way too much at once.

I stopped crying and I stopped trying to talk. It was hard to talk that fast. And then I felt clammy and uneasy. Emotion-explosion. That was what Sam called it. I had only done this a couple times, always when I was drunk.

"You got bit?" Quinn questioned.

"Last night," I sighed. "By Lord Tubbington. On accident. Santana helped." My sentences started to drag so I made little sentences. I wiped my cheek again. It was still wet.

Quinn didn't respond, maybe she nodded. I didn't know. I wasn't looking. Every time I tried to look at something it made my eyes feel fuzzy. Quinn grabbed my hand and pulled it into her lap. "Let's go back downstairs," she said.

"Okay." I rubbed the back of my hand under my nose and sniffled.

She grabbed the beer that Artie had left and the two other drinks. She poured his beer down the drain in the upstairs bathroom while I waited in the hall. She had to be moving slow on purpose. Also she asked me if I wanted to stay upstairs instead. I didn't. I wanted to go downstairs where Santana and everyone else was.

She looped her arm through mine when we went down the stairs. I brushed my fingers over the railing with my free hand.

It felt weird walking through people. I bumped into some of them, but everyone else was moving too quick. When we got through the kitchen, I opened the door since Quinn was holding drinks.

It was so much quieter outside. Like it had been upstairs. Like lying down in a bathtub and not being able to hear things outside of the water as easily.

Santana was out here with Mercedes. Just the two of them.

Santana watched me walk up to her. I reached her before I thought I would.

"Did you want one?" I asked Quinn. I was talking about the drinks in her hands. She could have one and then I could get another inside for myself.

"Oh, no thank you." She handed over both cups. "I'll get something in a little. Unless you don't want it?"

I would drink it. I kept it and then handed Santana her drink. She took it without saying anything. She was still watching me. I wanted to talk to her, just her. But other people were out here.

Quinn and Mercedes started to talk about how Sam had just chugged a huge glass of beer.

After a little I was to the point where I had no clue what they were saying. I felt too guilty to listen. I'd invited Artie and then he was kicked out. And I didn't want Santana to be upset. Him wanting to kiss me was an accident, but accidents still upset people. Santana had been upset after what Sam had said. And that was an accident. I balled up free hand and shoved it in my pocket. _Stupid, _I mouthed the word.

"Were you crying?" Santana whispered and lifted her hand. She used her thumb to rub under my eye. "Your makeup is smeared."

I didn't want to lie to her. "Just a little." I peeked over to see Mercedes talking and not looking. Quinn looked away when I looked at her.

"Is something wrong?" Santana spoke even softer.

I shrugged. I didn't want to say something right now. Later.

**XXXxxxx**

**a/n :**

**check out my tumblr if you haven't and have questions! :) www . frogsr2cool . tumblr . com**


	4. Fine

**a/n: hi :)**

**Chapter 4 : Fine**

Everything would be fine. I lifted my drink to my lips and filled both cheeks with it. It tasted strange and stuck to the back of my tongue.

I tried to swallow all of the alcohol in one giant gulp before I choked. "It's the fire drink," I whispered to Santana and had to cough out some that had gotten stuck in my throat. I didn't want her to choke when she drank hers.

She turned to me. That little smile on her lips was the most beautiful thing ever. I was definitely right. She was easily more beautiful than the song Mercedes had sung this morning. Twice as beautiful. One beautiful for each of her lips…

"Britt?" I watched her lips whisper. She shifted and stepped a little closer. "Hey." Her lips moved again and I couldn't pull my eyes from them. I liked them so much. I liked kissing them. I liked listening to them talk. I especially liked listening to them kiss me. I narrowed my eyes, because I wasn't sure if you could listen to kissing.

You could. I remember my lips had made noises when I had kissed her downstairs lady-lips... And she had made noises. _Stop_. Oh God. I snapped my attention to look at everyone. Mercedes had been talking to Quinn, but now she wasn't and now everyone was looking at me. _Everyone_. I hadn't said that out loud, right?

My body started to get hot. My cheeks were already on fire from the alcohol, but now they were really, really, on fire.

"Is something wrong?" Mercedes asked.

_No._

I looked to Santana, but I couldn't make out her expression and so I moved my eyes back to the other two girls. I couldn't make out theirs either. I gulped. Audibly. And then I remembered I had alcohol so I lifted the cup to my lips and took two huge gulps from it. Almost too big, because some of it fell out from the corners of my lips.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and then looked down at my shirt. Two wet spots. I licked my thumb and started to rub at the fabric.

_Shit_. I stained my horse shit. I mean shirt. I smiled and felt a laugh huff past my lips. "Horse shirt, horse shit." Then I really laughed. When I stopped I looked up to see if everyone was still watching me.

Santana had her lips pinched to the side and I knew she was holding back a smirk. Quinn had a huge smile, all of her teeth. And Mercedes still had the same look on her face. Confused. Maybe she couldn't see the horses on my shirt since she was the farthest away.

Finally Mercedes let the look fall from her face and shook her head. She went back to talking with Quinn. They were still talking about Sam. Mercedes should just go talk to him, because he was probably waiting for her to do that.

I took another drink from my cup. It was almost gone. I peeked at Santana's. She still had a lot. "Do you not like it?"

She followed my eye line to her cup. "Oh no, it's fine." She looked surprised that I had asked that.

_It's fine_? What was fine? The Artie thing? I knew she didn't mean to remind me of it. She didn't even know it had happened. Was it fine? It wasn't. It couldn't be. It was never fine when someone else tried to kiss you.

I should tell her.

I felt my body sweating. The tips of my ears were burning.

"Hey Santana." I said her name. I hadn't meant to.

But she was already looking at me. I wasn't prepared. I needed to figure out how to explain what had happened, because I didn't want her to misunderstand.

"Do you want to go inside?" I looked over my shoulder at the house. I could see people through the glass door, but nobody specific. I looked back at Santana and had to blink my eyes a few times. I hadn't seen anything when I had turned my head back to her. I just saw the house and then I saw her. None of the stuff in between. I looked back to make sure the in-between stuff was still there. A barbecue and a few plastic chairs. Good.

She must have said yes, because we were walking back to the house and her arm was looped through my elbow. She un-looped it when we reached the door and I stepped in first.

Everything was so loud. I swear everyone was talking at the same time. I heard music, I heard people shouting, and I heard people laughing. I couldn't figure out what anyone would be laughing or cheering at. I looked for it.

Where was Santana? I turned around. She was shutting the door. I reached for her hand and grabbed it and squeezed it. I didn't want her to get lost before I was able to talk to her. I wanted her to stay by me. I didn't want Artie to come back and ask to see Lord Tubbington again. I didn't want to show Lord Tubbington to anyone. Ever. Only Santana.

I stepped close to her. She was looking at our hands. I leaned in to her ear. "Can you tell people I'm hanging out with you if they ask to see Lord Tubbington?" I leaned back and waited. Her face showed her response. _What? _So I leaned back in. "I want to hang out with you."

She nodded.

I nodded and smiled, and I smiled even bigger when I remembered she was still letting me hold her hand. Even if I was only holding around her fingers and squeezing her knuckles, it still counted.

We weaved through the crowd and through the kitchen and when we got to the living room she moved towards my ear. "What do you want to do?" When she leaned away my ear tried to follow her lips. I liked her close.

What had she asked? _What, _I mouthed.

She leaned back in and I squeezed her hand tighter.

"Where do you want to hang out? The living room? Back in the kitchen?" She asked. I was glad that she had talked for a little longer this time.

I just wanted to hold her hand. That was easy and we had never held hands in front of other people like this before. I liked it. A lot. I leaned back to her ear. It felt like I had moved way too fast so I took a few breaths before I spoke. "I like holding your hand." It wasn't what I had intended to tell her when I leaned in. I hadn't even remembered her question.

She laughed. I was still close to her ear so I talked more. "And I like you. A lot."

"Oh God. You're drunk." She laughed, leaned back, and didn't even look at me.

I laughed a little too. Something wet hit my shins. It startled me and made my entire body shudder.

"Shit!" Santana crouched down, still holding my hand, and picked up a red cup. My red cup.

"Oops." I was going to lean down and help her, but stopped. Instead I balanced myself with her shoulder and squeezed her hand.

We were by the front door near Rachel's coffee table and the weird bowl. Santana stood up with my empty cup and set it on the table next to hers. When had she set hers down?

"Rachel wants coasters on those, in those," I paused and I shook my head, "under those."

Santana said something that I didn't hear.

"They'll get beer rings. Rachel says they're French tables." I tried to find a coaster, but I had no clue where they were.

There were so many people. I'm sure all the coasters were being used. I didn't even know these people. I think. I didn't know. It didn't matter since they were friends of friends.

"Whoa, whoa." Santana let go of my hand and then we bumped against Rachel's French coffee table.

"Bonjour," I mumbled and caught myself. My palms were pressed flat against the table. The little bowl wobbled. There were coasters in it. _Oh. _

Santana's hands were on my waist.

I stood up straight and her grip around my waist tightened. I couldn't stand straight. I couldn't even see people. "Yeah," I heard myself say.

Where was Santana's hand? I grabbed her wrist. Maybe I should sit.

Her hands were squeezing my elbows now and I was finally sitting. My knees were bent up to my chest. Santana was kneeling down in front of me. She let go of my arms.

"I'm okay." I said it because she had probably asked. Maybe.

Were my shins still wet? I slid my hands down my legs and I couldn't tell and then my hands slapped the floor. I think I needed to be outside. What if I puked on the carpet?

"You won't puke, okay?" I heard Santana say. "If you need to we can go to the bathroom."

I had said something?

I mumbled something.

Santana said she would be right back. She said it like a million times so I knew for sure she would come back. And when she got back it hadn't even felt like she had left.

"Sit up, Britt," she said.

I did what she asked and opened my eyes. I hadn't even noticed I had been lying down. She was on her knees in front of me again. I bumped my shoulder into the coffee table and scooted so I was tucked against it and pressed into the wall. I didn't want to lie down again

She grabbed my hands and rubbed them with a towel and then she told me to lift my butt and she wiped up something wet I must have been sitting in. I forgot I had spilled my drink.

"Did it get on you?" I asked. It was hard to look at her when all I wanted to do was close my eyes. Why was I this drunk?

"Did what?" She asked and scooted a little closer. She picked up a cup and handed it to me. "Here, drink this."

I shouldn't drink anymore alcohol. "In a second." I grabbed the cup and brought it to my lips, but never drank it.

She grabbed the cup from my hands and traded me for me a torn half of a bagel. "You should eat something. When's the last time you ate?"

I didn't remember. Why would that be important? I was drunk, not starving. But I took the bagel and started to chew a bite and it was so hard to chew. It felt like I would never be able to swallow it.

"Srry I gt drun-," I spoke through the food in my mouth. I didn't want her to think she had to wipe up spilled drinks and steal Rachel's bagels.

Santana didn't say anything.

"I was tr-," I swallowed the bagel and took another bite, "tr-ng to have fn." I sounded so weird when I was talking and I knew it was because I was having a hard time talking in the first place. Maybe I should lie back down for a second until I wasn't so tired. I could lie down, Santana could go hang out with someone who wasn't sitting in wet stuff, and then we could hang out when I could stand. Maybe even hold hands later, if she wanted.

"Drink some water." She held the cup out for me.

Water sounded good. Maybe I should pee. I needed to pee. What if I peed on the floor? "I ddn't pee on the flr right?" My mouth was still full.

"No, that's your drink you spilled, Britt."

I nodded and tried to chew faster. Water would help cause then I could pee out all the beer.

Someone bumped my shoulder. Someone wearing a black shirt. I looked over. Puck. He was sitting by me with his back against the wall. I looked to Santana. Back to Puck. Then back to Santana.

"Not now, Puck." Santana rolled her eyes and it kind of made me dizzy so I closed my eyes and just focused on chewing my bagel. I rested my head against the coffee table. It wasn't as hard to chew when I didn't have to hold my head up.

"Just for a second." I heard Puck talk. "There's this girl who's playing hard to get. Chicks dig it when guys talk to other hot chicks. So, talk to me."

"No," Santana said.

I thought about saying hello, but never actually said it.

"Why are you girls sitting over here? You're totally missing out on the party. Awesome party, by the way," I heard him say.

Again I had wanted to respond and say thanks, but didn't actually say it.

"Dude, is she passing out?" Puck's shoulder bumped me. I kept chewing.

"Britt." Santana squeezed my knee.

"Hm?" I opened my eyes and lifted my head. I couldn't focus. Everything was so blurry. I felt like I was looking through water. Where was that water Santana had brought over?

"Stay awake until you eat that," Santana said and she kept her hand on my knee.

I wondered if she would mind holding hands again. I lifted my hand and put it on hers. She didn't pull away so I grabbed her hand and she still didn't pull away.

I tried so hard to focus and I couldn't. So I closed my eyes again and focused harder on chewing.

"Want me to carry her upstairs?" I heard Puck.

I shook my head. I didn't want to go anywhere. I was with Santana. "I'm wih Sntana," I said, and hoped that they could understand it through the infinity-chewing-bagel.

"Not now," Santana said. I was glad.

Puck got up. I felt him bump me. He said some other stuff and then I swallowed what was in my mouth and really wanted a drink now. I opened my eyes again and looked around for the water cup until Santana held it towards me. She must have been holding it the entire time.

I drank as much as I could in one breath, which wasn't much. So I took another breath and drank more.

Santana took the cup and I took a few deep breaths and then took another bite of the bagel I had set in my lap. I finished the bagel. I finished the cup of water and I didn't feel as sleepy. I wanted to ask how long we had been sitting here, but I didn't. Instead I told Santana that I would be fine if she wanted to go hang out with people. She said she wanted to hang out with me.

She left for a second and then came back with more water. I was glad she didn't have another bagel because my jaw hurt from chewing. This time she sat against the wall with me.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I am. Did you want stand up because I have water on my butt," I paused because that rhymed. "Are you feeling okay? You shouldn't drink that drink I made." Words were just falling out of my mouth. "Where's your drink?" I looked for it, but then gave up. I looked back to Santana and turned so I was facing her. "Who's bagels were those?"

"Rachel's."

My eyes shot open.

Santana smiled and I was staring at her lips again.

"There's going to be an entire bagel missing!" My eyes were huge as I said this. I knew they were. "We should put a piece of bread in there as a substitute. When I was little sometimes my sister would sneak ice cream in the fridge and she would leave the lid off on purpose." I scooted closer to Santana. "So my parents would think I did it." I smiled now. "Hailey is clever."

I looked for Puck. Wasn't he just here? "Where's Puck?" I looked back at Santana. "Do you think he likes Quinn? And do you think someone can ever be too old for a Mohawk?" My answer was _never. _Those were the only two things I knew about Puck. Quinn and Mohawk. "He's pretty nice." And I also knew that.

"Girls." Rachel stopped in front of us. I ran my eyes up her stockings, passed her skirt, until I reached her face. I hoped nobody noticed that.

"Yessss," I responded and drew it out.

"Brittany!" Rachel yelled and it scared me. She leaned for the coffee table and snatched the cups sitting on it. "Are these yours? I told you to use coasters!"

I didn't respond. I pretended I hadn't heard the question.

"These are brand new!" Rachel continued. "You'll leave rings. I told you to be careful with how much you drank and with my new furniture and here I find you blatantly ignoring both of those requests. Are you even aware that you're sitting in something wet? Not to mention your hair is a mess. How much did you drink?" Rachel had a scowl stuck on her face and she kept going. "You must have had too much if you can't remember to use a simple coaster." She paused. "Look," she took a breath, "all I wanted was a coaster underneath the cups. That should have been easy enough to remember, even for you."

"If you want a coaster then go to Six Flags!" I knew it wasn't the type of coaster she was talking about, but I wanted her to stop. Her crankiness was way too overwhelming, especially right now.

I heard Santana laugh. One short, breathy, laugh, and then she started really laughing. A lot. I laughed a little too, but only because Santana was laughing so hard.

"Oh, come on." Rachel threw her hands up in defeat. "I can't even have a real conversation with you two. This is ridiculous." That only made Santana laugh harder. "You've two have had enough. I'll be taking _these."_She held up our cups, still scowling.

"Thank you," I said.

She stomped away.

Santana's giggling was cute. Probably the cutest thing I had ever seen. Her dimples, her squinted eyes, the little breathy laughs that squeaked. It made me laugh.

She wiped under her eyes and cleaned away the little runs of makeup and after forever she finally stopped laughing. And then I stopped. I didn't think I had ever laughed that long in my life.

She sighed. "That was funny." She let out another soft laugh and wiped her eyes again.

I didn't ask her why. I was too busy smiling.

Rachel stormed back. I saw her stockings first. Pink. "Girls, you could at least help clean," she snapped.

"Do it in the morning." Santana didn't look at her when she responded.

"We should clean now. It won't take long if you actually help," Rachel was still snapping her words.

The two of them continued to argue about cleaning. _Cleaning?_What? Why would we clean? I looked around and couldn't find the party. Where was everyone? There were a few people hanging around still talking with Quinn by the door. But that was it. "Where'd everyone go?" I leaned forward a little. Where were Puck and Sam, and did Finn leave? "We just talked to Puck."

"Puck left an hour ago," Rachel answered. She sounded relieved about it.

_What?_

"He came over and said bye," Santana spoke softly, just to me.

I shook my head. No, he didn't.

"He left with Finn and Sam," Santana continued to explain. "They all came over and said bye."

_No._

Rachel walked away again.

I would have remembered them leaving. I knew I would have. All I remembered was eating a bagel and sitting here. And before that I remembered being outside and giving Santana her fire drink. The one Artie helped me make.

My body tensed. _Uh oh_. I hadn't told her yet. I needed to tell her. I couldn't just lead some guy up to my room, have him almost kiss me, and not tell her. That shouldn't be a secret.

"I did something bad." I had to force the words past my lips and after I did I was shocked I had said them.

_Bad_... It was bad? How was it bad? I slammed my eyes shut. I couldn't remember. I squeezed my eyes shut even harder. I didn't know what else to say. I kept thinking about Santana laughing and Rachel offering to clean up our cups.

"Bad how?" Santana asked. I could tell she was upset. Her voice changed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I clenched my jaw. I hated saying _fine.__ "_Fine, fine, fine, fine," I mumbled the words to myself. If it was fine, then it should be easy to explain. And it wasn't easy. Did I even need to explain? Quinn said it was _fine._No. No, she didn't say that. I didn't remember. What did she say? Where was Quinn?

I looked for her again. She was still by the door. Was she drunk? I was drunk. Maybe that was why I felt so weird.

Also, if I couldn't remember saying bye to people, then I didn't want to tell Santana something important and not remember it tomorrow. I wanted to remember things we talked about.

"I want to talk about something, but not if I'm drunk." I leaned back against the wall. "You should call your dad and ask him how to get sober."

Santana looked confused. She shook her head, _hell_ _no_.

"He's a doctor, he would know how to," I said and when I said that her face untwisted and softened. So soft. She was so soft.

"We can wait to talk, unless something is wrong." She eyed me and I think was looking for the first sign of something being very wrong.

"I want to talk now," I paused, "...I just think it's hard to understand people when they're a little drunk. And I'm drunk." I paused again. I couldn't even begin to count the times I had tried talking to my mom at night and we had confused each other. I was holding my breath. I turned to Santana. "Do you think my mom was drinking the night she saw Hailey's diary?" I snapped my eyes open. Why did I ask that? Santana wouldn't know. I tried to think of something else to say. We didn't need to talk about _that._"Maybe I shouldn't be drinking?" It came out as a question.

At first Santana looked as flustered as I felt. She answered, just a shrug, but it was still an answer.

Why would that question be any better? I should ask something, like, why Rachel seemed grumpy.

I knew better than to ask _answerless_ questions. Santana knew that I knew better. So she asked if I wanted some more water and then we went into the kitchen and I started eating another bagel from Rachel's stash. Santana said it would help and said she had asked Rachel.

Every time Rachel came into the kitchen she would throw things in the garbage really hard. She was mad. So I put the second bagel I was about to eat back into the bag.

I had to have told Santana I wished I was sober at least a hundred times. I was surprised she didn't get annoyed, because Rachel told me to stop repeating myself. After that I whispered and asked Santana if she could text her dad about getting sober. She said it was too late and he would be sleeping.

Quinn gave me a hug before she went to sleep. It was nice of her. After that Santana and I were the last ones hanging out in the kitchen. When we went upstairs we shared the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The bagel didn't sober me up as much as I wanted. It was hard to stand still and brush my teeth at the same time. I could see myself swaying in the mirror. I think my body kept trying to make me lie down and sleep.

I went in my room with Santana and let her borrow a pair of sweats. Her sweats…they were hers in the first place. She said thank you anyways.

I curled up in my bed while Santana was still changing. I didn't really change anything. I just took my pants and shoes off. She put sweats on and then put on a t-shirt with a hot air balloon on it. It was really small on her since her boobs were bigger than mine. I told her Hailey had bought it for me when we were little with money I had given her to babysit Lord Tubbington.

She turned the light off.

She wasn't leaving was she? I couldn't tell. I was so tired and the room was spinning. I didn't want her to leave.

"Wait!" I hissed. I sat up quickly. Way too quickly. It felt like my brain had just slapped the inside of my head. I pushed the heel of my palms into my forehead and smashed my eyes closed.

The door didn't open. She didn't leave.

I opened my eyes. It was dark, but I could still see her. "Can you wait?" I asked again. I had to say something if she was going to her room.

"I wasn't going to leave. I was turning the light off," she whispered. I listened to her walk back to my bed. Two steps, tops. My room wasn't very big. "Are you going to get sick?" She didn't sit down yet.

"Probably not," I answered. That whiplash feeling was going away, but I was still dizzy. I didn't want to puke on my new bed. No puking, no matter what.

"Where's Lord Tubbington?" Santana was still whispering.

Maybe I should be whispering. I patted the bed, didn't feel him, and then reached for Santana's sweatpants. I lightly tugged until she sat down. I think she had been worried about sitting on him, but he was under the bed.

I didn't let go of her sweat pants.

"What's wrong?" Santana spoke her softest.

"I want you to stay in here," I started. It almost felt like I was giving a presentation. So I swallowed all of the toothpaste-spit in my mouth and squeezed her thigh with the hand that had been holding her pants.

Santana nodded. I took a tiny breath, so she wouldn't notice my nerves acting weird_._ The last thing I needed to do was have another emotion-explosion."Remember when I accidentally touched Quinn's boob?"

Santana laughed, but quickly quieted herself.

I couldn't laugh. I felt weird. So I just squeezed her thigh harder and locked my eyes on the comforter. "I accidentally did something."

Nothing. So quiet.

"I invited this guy upstairs to see Lord Tubbington." It was still so quiet. She didn't react at all.

It felt like all of the air had been stolen from between us. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have started with that. I blurted something else. "But I want to take you on a date. I'm just not sure if we go on dates or if we just hang out."

"Accidentally?" Santana mumbled. Actually, it wasn't a mumble. It was a clear, soft, emotionless word. And if anything, if I had to pick an emotion, it would be dazed.

I started to panic. Millions and millions and millions of things were zipping through my mind. I didn't know what to say first. "He just got the wrong idea. I told him we could look at Lord Tubbington in my room. We got up here and sat on my bed and he tried to kiss me."

"Wait," Santana interrupted. "He tried what? He didn't try anything else did he?"

"No!" I had nearly yelled. I covered my mouth and spoke through my hand. "No." I was quiet this time. "It was an accident."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" She was angry. But she wasn't angry like Rachel had been in the kitchen. It was different.

"I'm not sure." I didn't have an exact answer. But I knew nothing would ever happen with someone that wasn't Santana. I liked her too much. "I didn't want to upset you."

I could almost hear her biting her tongue. "Who is he?" And then she stood up.

Artie was gone. I reached for her sweatpants and pulled her back down to sit.

"It was an accident, I-"

Santana interrupted again. "How is a guy coming up to your room with you and then trying to kiss you an accident? Guys don't accidentally do that." Now she was way past Rachel-garbage-throwing-angry. "Brittany," she took a breath and tried to calm herself.

"Nothing happened," I repeated and spoke soft so maybe she would start calming down. "It was a misunderstanding."

She said something in Spanish. It was soft. Then she spoke in English. I hadn't understood that either.

"Can we please talk about this in the morning? So I can explain properly." I knew she was angry and upset for the wrong reasons. Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe she would be more upset. "I just want to make sense."

She paused before responding. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "I don't even make sense to myself right now," I shrugged again and realized it was a nervous thing. I was drunk and I was babbling even if I was saying true stuff. I pinched the webbing between my ring and pinky finger to keep myself from shrugging again.

I stopped myself from saying something about my mom. That wasn't a good conversation for right now and probably not a conversation that needed to happen ever. I wasn't sure why I had wanted to say something in the first place. "I don't want you to go anywhere if I say something wrong." That was the second thing that had come to my mind.

"I'm not."

I nodded and pinched the webbing in between my fingers so tightly.

"He didn't try anything, right?" Santana asked.

"No. Just kissing. And that was my fault for asking him to come upstairs."

"No."

I didn't respond. I wasn't sure what she was saying _no_ to.

"You're okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine."

She didn't believe me. But she didn't question. She just looked like she didn't believe me. That's when I smiled. Only Santana would ask if I was okay, after I had led someone on.

"You should sleep," Santana put her hand on mine. I was still touching her thigh. "We can talk again tomorrow if you want."

Maybe tomorrow I could also ask her on a date. "If I lay down I'll puke," I said. I would get dizzy, the ceiling would spin, and it would make me sick.

I stood up and walked over to my closet. There was a piggy bank in it. I hadn't had time to put it on Quinn's dresser.

I walked back, sat on the bed, and popped the piggy bank's belly button off. A few coins fell into my lap. I stuck my finger in and pulled out a couple wadded bills. But it was too dark and I couldn't read them. Maybe this was enough for a fancy date at Breadstix. It was at least enough to start saving.

I knew counting money wouldn't make me less sick, but it was a good distraction.

Santana held out her hand and I started putting coins in her palm. I took out all the bills. It was hard to see them. I had to squint and even still I couldn't read them very well. So blurry. But I flattened them all and rolled them into one combined tube and then put them back in the piggy bank. I wasn't sure how long we organized money. A long time. But not long enough to count it all. We kept losing coins and recounting others.

And then I was starting to fall asleep so we started to put the coins away. I put the pig on the floor and both of us crawled into my new bed.

I was so tired. "Thanks."

"Mmhmm," Santana was tired too.

She pulled the sheets over us and I snuggled into her side.

**XXXxxxx**

I woke really early, probably because I was thirsty. I snuck out of my room, tiptoed to the bathroom and filled my palms with water from the faucet. All the cups were downstairs and that was a long walk. I wanted to get back in my bed with Santana before she woke up.

I peed, washed my hands, drank more water and then looked in the mirror and saw I had raccoon eyes from all the smeared makeup I hadn't washed off.

I left my makeup and tiptoed back to my room. The first time I met Santana she had had raccoon eyes. She wouldn't care about mine.

I slipped in my door. I picked up my piggy bank from the floor and crawled back up next to Santana, piggy bank in between us. I popped open the pig again, moved it slowly so it wouldn't be noisy and I poured out all the coins. The rolled bills fell out last.

Pennies first. I picked them out and I put them on Santana's stomach. Pennies were light. She wouldn't feel them.

It was easier to count now. I wasn't drunk and it wasn't dark.

I got through thirty-two pennies before she woke up. She filled her chest with the air from a huge yawn and her stomach sunk in. It made some of the pennies move. "What?" She peeked down at her tummy as some of them fell off. Then she sleepy-laughed and let her head fall back down. "You have forty two dollars and thirteen cents."

I scooted up and propped myself up by her face. Not that I didn't like being down that low, but I wanted to talk to Santana, not her stomach.

"I counted them after you fell asleep," she said. Her voice definitely sounded like it lacked sleep.

"Thanks." I put the plug back in the pig's belly button and started to drop coins through its back. At first it was noisy, but then the coins started piling on top of each other and it wasn't so noisy.

She didn't say anything until I had put all the money back in, put the piggy bank back on the floor, and laid my head on her stomach.

"We need to talk," she hushed.

I hadn't forgotten. I just had been dropping in coins slowly so I didn't have to think about it.

"Do you want to talk?" She asked so softly, and I figured it was so Mercedes wouldn't hear through the wall.

No. I wanted to lay on her, in bed, and be sleepy forever. It was easy and it was comfortable.

"Britt," Santana said my name after a while. "Did you fall asleep?"

"No." I started to walk my fingers across her shirt, below her boob.

I did that for a while. Back and forth, back and forth. I knew I needed to say something, I just didn't know what to talk about or how to start talking about it. It was easier when I had been drunk, even if I hadn't made sense. At least I had said words then.

Santana grabbed my hand and stopped my walking fingers.

"He tried to kiss me and I didn't want to kiss him, so I didn't." I made it as straight forward as I could. Simple. The last thing I wanted to do was complicate something.

"Is that it?" She raised an eyebrow.

I nodded and waited.

"You're okay, right?" She questioned. It was the same question she had asked me last night. She asked it the same exact way.

"Yes. Quinn came in my room and made him leave." My voice sounded small.

"Good," she nodded and then squeezed my hand. "You need to be careful."

I needed to be clearer with my intentions. "Artie didn't try stuff after that. He was actually very nice."

"Artie?" She sounded shocked. "Really?" Now she sounded like she didn't believe me. "It was _Artie_? The Artie that I went to school with?"

I wasn't sure about that. "Maybe? Quinn knows him."

"Huh…" She sounded kind of impressed now. Maybe she thought he was cool.

"Please be careful, because some people aren't nice and most boys haven't been castrated by Quinn Fabray." I glanced up at her and she was smirking. She stopped smirking. "Promise you'll be careful."

I nodded. I would be careful. I laid my head back down. "Next time I go upstairs with a boy I'll give you a heads up," I teased.

"Hey. No." She sounded so serious.

"Fine, I won't invite you." I had to bite my lip to control my smile.

She wasn't amused. Sort of.

"I was thinking..." I lifted my head again to look at her. Teasing her had reminded me of something. "We should make another _plan_."

She slid her hand out of mine, up to my wrist, and started to tickle the bone on the outside. It wasn't a sexual gesture, but it was intimate and I liked it.

My heart started to pump faster. She didn't answer right away. All I could think of was what had happened during our last plan. I should have said _soup _not _plan. _Plan was a pretty big shoe to fill. Our last plan was the best plan ever. The first try I got to see a part of Santana nobody else had, and the second time I got to make her come.

Maybe plan was a good word to pick.

Why wasn't she answering yet? I moved my hand towards her stomach and pinched softly.

She shrieked and then swallowed her laugh.

I stopped, but she still slapped at my hands and gave me a really dirty look, which was of course followed by a really sweet look. And then She sat up. Criss-cross-applesauce. I copied her.

"It doesn't have to be a plan." I was finally brave enough to say something. Sitting felt way more intimidating than cuddling.

She was smiling. "I like plans." Her lips looked like they wanted to kiss me.

I said something only after I was one-hundred percent sure she wasn't going to kiss me. "What did you want the plan to be?"

"Well." She straightened her posture and cleared her throat. "We need to talk about us."

I nodded. "So, not a sexy plan?" I internally cringed right after I said it. I had only meant to think it.

The corner of her mouth curved upward. I couldn't look at anything but her lips. I knew I was so obvious, but I couldn't help it.

_Wrap your legs around me. Lean back, on your hands. I'll be gentle. _I remembered absolutely everything she had said during our first time. I never would have guessed I'd lose my virginity on a bathroom counter, but that had been the perfect place. Mostly because I could sit and she could stand.

"I didn't say that," Santana spoke.

I pulled my eyes up from her lips. _Didn't say what?_ "Didn't say what?" I repeated my question for her to hear.

"I didn't say it couldn't be sexy, but I do think it's important we talk. You're not something I want to keep tucked between the sheets." After she said that, she looked sad. Really, really, sad.

She scooted to me, leaned in and pecked the corner of my mouth. It took me completely off-guard or I would have kissed back. The entire conversation was taking me off guard and I was the one who had brought it up. Her lips, possible sexy plan, talking. Talking was what really threw me. I wasn't good at talking and clearly she wasn't thrilled by the idea.

"So here's the plan." Santana scooted so close to me. She didn't look sad anymore. She put her hands on the insides of my thighs. They were warm. It made my stomach muscles curl. "My dad is forcing me go to his work party on Saturday. Usually my mom and I go together," she paused, "...she's not going." I nodded for her to continue. Her parents weren't together so that made sense. "I don't want to go alone and I figured, if you wanted to go?" The corners of my lips were already pulling up into a smile. "It'll be very boring and you have to dress up, but the food is amazing, free and nobody will bother us. So we can talk." She squeezed my thighs.

My eyes flickered down to her hands. They were very distracting. "Okay," I grinned. That was a perfect _plan. _"It's a work party for doctors?" Doctors sounded intimidating…

She must have noticed my hesitation. "It's for families too." She pinched her lips together and it made her dimples huge.

"I'm not family." I didn't want to intrude. "What if I'm not supposed to be invited?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "You can be invited. I just invited you." She leaned in and pecked the corner of my mouth again.

**xxxXXX**


	5. Because it's Raining

**a/n: hope you enjoy the chapter! :)**

**Chapter 5: Because it's Raining**

Quinn and me were parked in her car. She was dropping me off at the work party. The one with intimidating doctors and fancy conversations and, most importantly, Santana and our plan.

I had worked most of the day and Santana seemed really anxious about not wanting to be late, so Quinn agreed to drop me off.

Last night Santana kept saying random things about her dad. I think she thought telling me details would make it easier. Easier for him, for me and for her. But nobody is ever how you expect them to be. I tried to explain that to her, but she kept telling me things, like, she had to put her makeup on at school and wash it off after cheer practice until halfway through her sophomore year. Also her dad thought tattoos were satanic-barcodes and her mom had to sneak her birth control pills. She said he was traditional and opinionated.

"Thanks for driving me," I told Quinn. It was really nice of her to offer and then insist it would be no problem. She had even let me borrow a whole bunch of stuff and had helped me get ready. We had taken everything to work and then spent twenty minutes in the break room getting me ready.

"Hold on." Quinn leaned over and started to fiddle with the little flower clip I was using to pin my bangs back. I watched her bite her lip as she adjusted it. "There." She leaned back into the driver seat.

I took a breath. Everything Santana had been saying and explaining suddenly hit me. What if she had been trying to prepare me so I didn't say something wrong? I knew her dad being traditional meant I shouldn't bring up our lady kisses, but what if there was more to it? "Is there anything else that needs to be fixed?" I stalled. I was starting to panic. I needed a few minutes to replay every little story Santana had told me and stop my what-ifs.

_What if I just keep quiet and that way I won't offend him…_

Quinn shook her head; _no I didn't need to fix anything._"You look very pretty." She said it in a way that made me believe her. It didn't calm my nerves, because my looks had nothing to do with the words I might accidentally say.

Should I even be wearing makeup? Santana wasn't ready to give her dad any ideas about us, and I wasn't either. That was a huge step… Her dad should be told at the exact right time in the exact right way. He shouldn't have to guess. "Is it too much? Maybe I should take off some of my makeup." I flipped down my visor to check the mirror.

"Don't you dare!" Quinn slapped at my hand and flipped the visor back up. "I spent a lot of time on your makeup. Besides, taking off the makeup won't make you look any less pretty."

I wanted to smile from the compliment, but I couldn't. My stomach was stinging with too many nerves. "So..." I looked to Quinn. "If I can't take my makeup off then I should take my dress off?" I was trying to lighten my mood and make it so I had to laugh. Laughing was easy, being nervous was hard.

Quinn cocked her eyebrow and darted her eyes around the car. Then she looked back at me. "What are you talking about? Why would you want to look any less pretty?"

I shrugged. "I just don't want to over-do it."

Quinn slowly nodded her head. "Ah…" It looked like she understood something. Maybe she understood what I was worried about, or maybe she understood something I hadn't yet thought to be worried about. I was pretty sure she'd at least seen Santana's dad before, so she understood something.

"So, I should change, right?" I reached to re-buckle my seatbelt. "It's definitely too much. I've never met parents before of someone I was," I stopped my sentence. I didn't know how to finish it. I clicked my seatbelt. "There aren't even pockets for my phone."

Quinn didn't budge. "Do you like your dress?" She questioned me.

I nodded.

"Do you like your makeup?"

I nodded again.

"Then it's settled. You're fine. You'll be fine." She sounded very believable, so I started to believe her. A little.

"Do you think anyone else is wearing a dress? What if it's a jeans type of party? Should I have worn jeans and a nice shirt? I know Santana told me to dress fancy, but what if she didn't mean Cinderella-ball-fancy? Maybe she meant nice jeans and a pretty shirt."

Quinn was holding back a laugh. "Why are you so nervous?"

I didn't answer_, _because saying _I'm not nervous _would be lying. And besides, Quinn was smart, maybe she had some good advice.

"Listen." She turned to face me. "Just say and do what you normally would. Everyone will love you. I promise."

I could do that, if I could remember what I normally would say when I was having dinner with a girl I had secret sexy-lady-kisses with and her father and all of the people her father worked with. "I've never been to something this nice. Have you?"

"I've been to a few and they are all the same. There's a lot of small talk, expensive food and champagne."

"Okay." I nodded. That helped a little. A very little. I still didn't know what to say to Santana's dad and what kind of small talk he liked. I didn't know how to act and I still didn't know if it was okay to wear a dress if Santana was wearing one.

Friends could wear dresses and I guess me and Santana were _friends_. Friends. Right now we were friends. Friends that kissed and did other things…

I closed my eyes. My heart was racing.

Why was I freaking out? I didn't even need to freak out. Oh God. What if he asked how close I was with Santana? Should I just say close? Yes. Friends. I could say we were close friends. I opened my eyes and nodded. Santana was my best friend.

Quinn reached over and squeezed my hand. "If you tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help."

That was tempting. I trusted Quinn. But I was in love with Santana and she trusted me with our relationship. I didn't want to give Santana any reason to not trust me. I needed to ask her who she felt comfortable with knowing about us. I could tonight.

I peeked over at Quinn. "I don't want to say something wrong. I want her dad to like me." I was pretty sure that was okay to say. And it was true.

Quinn nodded and squeezed my hand tighter before pulling away. "He will." She unbuckled my seatbelt. "Now go before you miss the entire party."

I liked Quinn. She was a good friend. She said what she meant. "Okay," I said and opened my door.

"Smile a lot, hang around Santana, and you'll be fine. Oh," she looked like she had remembered something, "here." I sat back in my seat. She poured out the stuff in her purse onto her lap and then handed me the little bag. "It's small enough for you to carry. You can keep your phone in it."

I put my phone in the purse and clipped it shut, slung it over my shoulder, and crawled up and out of her car. I still wasn't used to getting out of such an expensive and extremely yellow car.

Quinn started the engine and rolled down the passenger window. "And relax."

I nodded, she waved, I waved, and then she drove away. I pulled my phone back out of Quinn's purse and called Santana. She answered on the second ring. It hadn't given me any time at all to calm down.

"Hey." She sounded relieved and then I was glad I had called her right away, and really glad that I hadn't driven back to change my clothes, because if I was nervous, then Santana was super nervous.

"I'm outside," I told her.

I looked at the building. It was a place where people usually had wedding receptions. I bet the people walking by on the street thought someone had gotten married. I wondered if anyone had worn white...

"I'll be right out," Santana said quickly and she stepped out the front door of the building before she hung up the phone.

She walked all the way to me, fast. I had forgotten to walk to her. I was too busy liking her dress and still being nervous. I completely understood why Santana had been so anxious these past few days. This was scary.

"You look pretty." I let my eyes slip down her body. Her dress was black. I was wearing yellow. "We look like we like bumble bees."

Santana laughed and it made her look more like Santana and less like a bundle of nerves. "Where'd you get your dress?" Her lips curled. It made my face instantly heat up. She could secret flirt and I would always blush, every single time.

"Quinn let me borrow it."

"You look awesome." I saw Santana's face twitch just a little after she said it. Probably because it was one of those things people accidentally said when they had been thinking it. But she didn't take it back or look like she regretted saying it. Instead her smirk grew bigger, because I think my face grew redder.

Being called pretty twice in a row wasn't something I was used to. Quinn had said it and I believed her, and then Santana said it and I felt like the reddest tomato.

I kicked her shoe with my shoe, hoping that would distract me. It made her smile and made me smile along with her.

"Come on." She nodded and gestured for me to follow her inside.

So I did. She didn't say anything and I didn't say anything. The closer we got, the quieter we got. I didn't even think we were breathing when we stepped inside. There was no point in asking more about her dad. Not now. Not when we were right here.

The room was packed when we stepped in. Tables were outlining the walls, covered with food. I wasn't hungry. Everyone had little tiny wine glasses filled with champagne. Flutes. I think they were called flutes. I calmed down a bit when I saw girls wearing dresses and some of them were way nicer than mine.

I started to pinch the webbing between my fingers. Okay. It wasn't so bad. Santana touched my arm and pointed to a group of men chatting. One of them had to be her dad. None of them looked too scary. I nodded and followed her to the group.

Each step I took it felt like my entire chest would beat.

"Papa," Santana greeted when reached the group. One man turned around, while the rest kept chatting. "This is Brittany. I work with her."

Her dad was tall and thin. I could tell he was older. He had a lot of man wrinkles on his face, like farmers get when they farm for a long time and are out in the sun for a long time and stressed about their farm. I knew he didn't have a farm, so must be worried about something else. He didn't smile when she introduced me. He didn't frown either. He just looked at me.

His eyes were so big and brown and staring right at me. It made my throat dry up.

I held my hand out for him to shake.

"You work at that bar?" His voice was gruff and his accent wasn't as strong as Santana's mom's. It didn't match his fancy suit and slicked back hair. But it did match that voice that had been on the other side of Santana's door the morning she had gotten scared and had hid me from him.

I pulled my hand back and then scratched my elbow to make it look like that was what I had intended on doing the whole time. Why would I think we shook hands? I'm his daughter's _friend. _I didn't shake Rachel's dad's hands.

"Oh." I should have responded right away. "Yes. I work at Shuester's." I dropped both hands to my side.

He nodded and then turned to Santana. "I thought the friend you were bringing was the Fabray's daughter."

"No, Papa," Santana corrected him. I wished I could look at her and maybe get some sort of hint as to how I was supposed to act, but I didn't want to do that and be rude and make him think me and Santana were exchanging silent conversation in front of him. So I just kept my eyes on her dad.

He cleared his throat and looked back at me. "What does your family think of you working at that," he paused, "_bar?" _

"Papa," Santana interrupted him, but he shot her a stern look that must have meant he wasn't finished.

He took a sip from the glass of champagne he had in his hands. "I was surprised Santana went back to work for an unmarried man that strictly hires young girls. It's not an appropriate job for someone who was raised proper." Now I knew where Santana had gotten that powerful presence in her voice.

I felt my face heat up again and it wasn't like the blush when Santana said I was pretty. It was a blotchy uncomfortable flush. I had no clue how to respond.

"Papa," Santana interrupted again. This time I looked at her. She looked so angry. Furious. I had never seen her so angry.

"Are you taking classes in the fall?" Her dad said something. He had to have been talking to me, because Santana glanced at in my direction.

I looked back at him and his eyes were locked on mine. "U-uh," I licked my lips. They were so dry. "No."

His response showed that had been the wrong answer.

"We're going to grab drinks and find a table." Santana grabbed my elbow and pulled me away.

I tried to wave bye, but he turned away without even acknowledging us.

"I'm so sorry," Santana whispered. She walked me up to one of the food tables. It had a white tablecloth and lots of champagne. White seemed like a bad color choice. It would get dirty. Santana grabbed two champagne glasses and handed one to me.

I followed her to a table. It was also covered in a big white table cloth and had a centerpiece with yellow tulips that matched my dress. Santana sat in the seat next to me. "I knew this was a bad idea. I'm really sorry. We can leave. Do you want to leave?"

I shook my head. "No, we can stay." I felt so much better now that it was just me and Santana and I had already met her dad. Hard part over.

"He shouldn't have said that," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Santana, it's not your fault. You don't have to apologize. And he didn't say anything that wasn't true," I shrugged. All he had said was what he believed. "I like when people say what they want."

She pinched her lips together. I don't think she believed me.

"It's not your fault," I repeated myself.

Santana scooted back in her chair and folded her hands on the table. "He made you uncomfortable. We can leave. I don't want him treating you like that."

I shrugged again.

"Please stop shrugging." She looked at me. "Nobody should treat you like that."

I didn't do or say anything.

"Fuck," she cursed. It was kind of loud. I looked around to see who had heard. Only one person. "I'm so stupid." She put her elbows on the table and pressed her fingers into her temples.

I was about to reach up for her hand, but stopped. That probably wasn't appropriate here. "No you're not," I responded.

She took a sip from her drink and tried to find a comfortable way to sit in her chair, but she just ended up looking frustrated and angry and kept shifting. "I just wanted him to meet you, so maybe, one day, maybe, we could tell him about you and me."

That was all she had to say and I felt like a gooey pile of Jell-O. "That's really sweet."

She caught my smile and matched it for a second, before she went back to being angry. "No, he shouldn't have acted like that. We can leave. We'll leave. I'll tell him we're heading out, okay?" She went to stand up.

I reached for her arm and made her sit back down. "Wait."

She sat down.

I pulled my hand away. I needed to ask her. I needed to finish our plan. I had been waiting so long to talk about us, and I knew she had too. She shouldn't let her dad get in the way of something like this. "So, someday we could maybe tell him? We are _something _that can be told to people?"

She studied me with her eyes.

"Not that I would tell people," I said. "I just mean, that we could, if we wanted or decided to tell people? We're more than friends?"

She still studied me. She was thinking.

And then she nodded. It was little.

"You and me are _together_?" I tried so hard not to smile and was almost too excited to say the last word.

She nodded again. "If you want?" She didn't whisper, or sound like anything but Santana. She wasn't angry or frustrated or nervous or anything. Just Santana.

I nodded. Heck yes I wanted.

"I'll be right back, and then we can go home." She stood up and brushed my shoulder as she walked away.

I took a sip from my champagne. It was tasty. Kind of dry and a little sour, but it was the best champagne I had ever had.

Someone sat next to me as I took a second drink. It startled me. I had no idea who he was. He was smiling, so that was good. Actually, he looked a little familiar. A little burly, like a teddy bear.

"Hello." He scooted the chair Santana had just been sitting in so he could face me. He held out his hand to shake mine.

I smiled and took his hand. It made me feel better about trying to shake Santana's dad's hand earlier.

"Dave." He squeezed my hand.

"I'm Brittany," I responded.

"I've seen you at Shuester's. I'm a friend of Santana's. I figured it was only polite if I came over to introduce myself."

"Oh," I perked up at the mention of Santana. The excitement from what we had just talked about still hadn't even begun to leave my chest. "I'm a _friend_ too." It took a lot of effort to not shout the word _friend._ "I came here to hang out with her tonight."

He nodded. "I saw you girls chatting. How long are you staying?"

"I think we're leaving in a little bit."

He pinched his eyebrows together. "That's too bad. The party hasn't even started." He gave a sad smile. "So you know Santana from work then?" He glanced past me in the direction she must be.

I turned to look for her too, but couldn't find her. There was just a bunch of dressed up people laughing and talking. I looked back to him. "Yup." I sipped my drink again. I should probably finish it so when Santana got back and she was ready to leave I didn't have to take huge gulps. "We're new roommates too."

"Really?" He smiled. "I just moved out a few months ago. It's so wonderful to have my own place. How's the new place treating you?"

"It's awesome!" I was getting excited, because he seemed excited. And I was already excited in the first place. This had been the best plan ever.

"Any other roomies? Is it just you and Santana?"

"No, Five of us." He looked shocked at the number. "They're so much fun. We had a housewarming party last weekend."

"That's the first step to living on your own." He peeked over my shoulder again. "Did you get a house in town?"

"Just outside of town, but it's not that far of a drive. It only takes me ten minutes to get to work."

He looked impressed. "So you're out past those old baseball fields?"

"On Parker Street," I grinned. I liked it when people knew things like that. It was exciting when people had things in common, or could relate.

"Awesome. That's a good neighborhood." He sat straight up in his chair. "So you both were able to get the night off to schmooze and drink expensive champagne." He nodded at my glass.

"Yeah, our boss let us have the night off. He's really cool," I said. Will was very cool. The best boss ever. We didn't even have to do much convincing for him to let us not work.

"Hey, I've got to go catch a friend before he leaves, but it was wonderful meeting you Brittany." He held his hand out and I shook it again. "I hope we can see each other again, soon. Tell Santana I said hi."

I nodded. He was nice.

He left and I sat alone with my champagne for a few minutes before Santana returned.

"Sorry I took so long, but we can leave." She set her empty champagne glass on the table. I stood up and finished off my drink. "You ready?" She asked.

I was. I followed her out of the building, into her car, and we drove home.

**XxXXXxxXXX**

Summer rain was one of my favorite things. The entire house smelled like wet dirt. I had opened all of the windows and it wasn't even raining yet. Lazy Sundays were also in my top favorite things. I was in a really good mood since both of those things were happening at once.

It was late, but not dark enough to turn any lights on yet. I was eating leftovers. Everyone except for Rachel had worked today, so she stayed home and made food. I wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it had lettuce and potatoes and it tasted good.

I was in the living room and I wasn't talking with anyone or doing anything. Just eating. It was weird. I had never really hung out in a living room. They had always been rooms that connected other rooms, not places to hang out. When I hung out at Sam's house, we were usually in his room. If I was at my house I wouldn't be in the living room. And when I had stayed with Santana we were either in the kitchen or upstairs.

But all of us girls were just sitting and being lazy. I could probably lay here forever, because the only thing I was worried about was whether or not I choked on my mashed potatoes. I was laying on the couch so choking was a likely possibility.

Santana and Quinn had been on the couch first, but then I had sat on the armrest, fell back, and draped myself over them. The back of my thighs were on Santana's lap and my head was on Quinn's lap. They were trapped.

It felt like sitting around a campfire, minus the marshmallows. It was easy. Way easier than last night had been.

Actually, last night wasn't bad, especially since Santana and me had talked. I held back smile so I didn't have to explain to one of the girls why I was suddenly excited.

After the fancy party last night, Santana and I had ended up going back to work. Will had been glad we showed up, because it was really, really busy. We clocked back on and then by the end of the night I had made a lot in tips, so it was worth it. And then we all had a drink, went home, and I fell asleep before I had time to brush my teeth.

I was glad Santana had invited me to her dad's work party. I would go to a billion more of them with her, but I guess I understood why she had been so anxious about it. It was for the same reason I had been so anxious and excited to tell my mom about Santana. I had wanted my mom to be as excited about Santana as I felt, because for whatever reason it's amazing when your mom, or in Santana's case her dad, loves the same things you do.

And maybe Santana hadn't wanted things to go perfectly with her dad, because _she __was in love with __me_, but I knew she cared about me and that was more than enough.

I took another bite from the bowl of mashed potatoes resting on my chest. Each time I would use my tongue to squish the potatoes to the roof of my mouth before I swallowed them.

Quinn took the spoon from my hands, took a bite for herself and handed the spoon back to me.

"They're good, aren't they?" Mercedes spoke. Nobody had said anything in so long and she sounded out of place. I craned my head back so Mercedes looked upside-down. She was sitting on the other couch with Rachel. I stopped craning my neck. It was making a lot of blood rush to my head.

Quinn mumbled with her mouth full, and then just nodded her head.

I swallowed the mashed potatoes stuck to the roof of my mouth. "We should use them for breakfast tomorrow." I was staring at the ceiling. "We can smash them into patties and then fry them in a pan. Like pancakes." I waited and listened to see if Rachel and Mercedes approved. "My dad used to do that sometimes."

"Sounds like an excellent idea," Quinn was the first one to respond. She took the spoon from me again and took another bite. It was weird to watch people chew mashed potatoes, especially when you were looking up from their lap. "I'll admit, when I found out Rachel cooked us dinner I was a bit nervous."

Rachel let out a noise of disapproval. Instantly she _defended_ herself. "You're not eating them properly or with the correct spices. Not only that, but there's an unhealthy amount of microwave-melted shredded cheese in them."

Santana shifted and she leaned over me to grab the bowl from my chest and the spoon from Quinn's hands. At first I thought she was going to say something, but she didn't. Then I imagined her throwing the bowl at Rachel. She didn't do that either. She just filled her mouth with a huge bite of the mashed potatoes.

Santana had been quiet today. Not overly quiet. Just quiet. I think it was because she was thinking about stuff. Last night she had gotten so upset about her dad. I had seen it on her face. I've been seeing it all day. She kept looking at me like she never wanted to stop apologizing.

I closed my eyes and I listened to everyone. It was relaxing to hear them talk about starting classes soon, about getting a lawn mower, about other little things that had to do with a house. Quinn twirled her fingers through my hair and Santana rested her arms over my lap and I just lied there with my eyes closed. They all probably thought I was asleep.

Actually, I knew they thought I was asleep, because Quinn nudged me after a while and asked me to wake up. When I opened my eyes I noticed the living room was so much darker and Rachel and Mercedes were gone. It was barely light enough to see things and it reminded me of being outside when the moon was out.

"I need to get up, Britt." Quinn tapped my shoulder.

I wasn't used to having my eyes open just yet. I swung my legs off of Santana and rolled off of the couch, hands first, into the hardwood floor.

"Careful," I heard Santana giggle and then felt her hand on my back.

I was being careful though. I stood up slowly and stretched. Santana lounged back against the couch and Quinn stood up and stretched with me. Quinn said goodnight, and then I sat back down.

"Did you want to go to sleep?" I yawned.

"Hold on," Santana responded. And then she turned her phone on and it lit up the entire living room. I watched her flick through things until she was looking at the weather. "Five minutes."

So I laid my head on her shoulder and kept watching her look through her phone. My eyes were starting to feel heavy and I knew I was falling asleep. I could hear rain slapping outside. Rain always made me sleepy.

"Okay," Santana said. It had to have been at least ten minutes after the five minutes had ended. She stood up and pulled me up with her. She kept a hold of my hand and lead me out the front door, clicking it softly shut behind us.

I was standing outside on the porch with her. It was warm and it was raining. I didn't ask what we were doing. Questions weren't always necessary. Surprises were more fun. And I was still waking up from almost falling asleep.

I waited for her to grab my hand again, and I waited as she led me across the grass and stopped me in the middle of the front yard. I felt uncoordinated and half asleep.

It wasn't pouring rain, but I could feel drops hit the top of my head. Very warm drops of rain. Maybe she wanted to talk to me about something private. That's why we were outside. So none of the girls would hear. That would make sense.

She grabbed both of my hands and held them between us. We were just standing in the rain. I pulled my lips into my mouth and then I looked around. It was so cute. Our little porch light by the door, the grass that was a little muddy and a little too green. Mud was overflowing onto my feet because I was wearing flip-flops.

Santana was cute too. Her hair was starting to get frizzy and wet. I wondered if my hair looked like hers.

"Do you remember that bucket list you made?" Santana asked. Her eyes were locked on our hands.

I looked down too. She was running her thumbs over the back of my hands. Small little circles that were making the veins in my hands shift with the pressure.

She continued. "I was thinking-" she paused and so did the circles on the backs of my hands, "we could cross off one of those things."

I looked up at her. Suddenly I couldn't remember anything on my list. There had to be at least a hundred things. Probably more. _Wait!_ I remembered something about flying in a helicopter. But helicopters aren't supposed to fly in dangerous rain and thunder weather, so I knew that couldn't be it.

"You know how you said something about wanting to see someone you love have a baby?" Her eyes locked on mine.

At first I was too busy looking at her eyes, and then I realized what she said. My shoulders dropped. My jaw dropped. My heart stopped. Oh my God. She was pregnant? What? No.

But then she smiled. Her lips curled upward until she couldn't hold in her laugh. "I'm kidding."

I jerked my hands away from her and playfully, and a little angrily, slapped her arm. I slapped harder than I meant to, but that was _not _funny.

"Ow," she grabbed her arm. "I was kidding," she reached for my hands and squeezed them so tight. "I'm sorry," she couldn't stop smiling and letting little laughs out. "That was mean. I'm nervous."

I tried my best to pout, but knew it wasn't working. I suppose I wasn't the only one who made jokes to make things easier. But why would she be nervous? It had to be about last night. Maybe she wanted to talk about her dad.

"Okay, I think it's been long enough." Santana shivered and seeing her shiver sent a shiver through my own spine. It was chilly now. The rain was starting to soak through my clothes.

Santana pulled me back to the house, fast. We hurried through the front door, and she locked it behind us. I tried to wipe my flip flops off as best as I could, but the mud was just making the foot mat muddy. I knew Rachel would be upset if I made it too muddy.

As quiet as possible, we snuck up the stairs. I was worried about slipping, because my flip-flops were still wet. Santana was worried about pulling me as fast as she could. I was about to go into my room and change into fresh pajamas, but Santana pulled me past my door and towards hers.

I couldn't see anything when she shut the door. And she didn't turn the light on. Her room was way darker than the rest of the house. Probably because she had black curtains.

"It's dark," I whispered.

Her hand squeezed my wrist a little tighter to let me know she wasn't letting go. But I was worried about stepping on something so it didn't keep me from taking my tiny, safe, shuffle steps.

She stopped walking and so did I. I wasn't sure exactly where we were standing in her room. I hoped she knew, because I felt like if I moved even a little bit I would bump into her dresser.

"Okay," she whispered back to me. It wasn't a normal whisper and I didn't think she meant to whisper as softly as she had.

"Okay," I repeated after her. It was meant to encourage her even if I had no clue what exactly I was encouraging. But anything she wanted to say or do I would be one-hundred percent behind. Unless she wanted to tell me she was fake-pregnant again. I wasn't okay with that.

She wasn't talking. It was so quiet. I started to hear my heart in my ears. Was something wrong? "Is something wrong?" I could barely hear myself ask the question. It was weird talking to someone without seeing them. It made me feel like she was really, really, really listening to me, because I knew I was really, really, listening to her.

"No, no. Of course not." Santana was quick to answer. "No. I'm," she took a little breath and stepped closer to me. "Do you remember some of the things you wrote on your bucket list?" She asked the question again.

"Some of them," I responded.

It didn't even sound like she was breathing. I couldn't remember her ever being this nervous. She was so strong and so brave and the fact that it was so dark was making me a bit uneasy. I couldn't see her face to see if she was hiding something.

"This is probably really silly," she said and then I heard a nervous breath she had tried to make sound like a laugh.

"It's not silly," I stated. If she wanted to say it, if it made her nervous, then it wasn't silly.

No response.

And then she finally responded. "You wrote that you wanted to kiss someone after being in the rain, so you knew they didn't want to kiss you just because of the rain."

As soon as she said that I remembered writing it. Kissing in the rain was pretty and it was cute and I had originally put it on my bucket list, but then I swapped it out, because I would much rather kiss someone _after_ rain. Then we could eat something warm, drink hot chocolate and cuddle.

I didn't mind people reading my bucket list, because most of it was pointless things like riding in helicopters and gauging my ears. But some of it was cheesy and stuff that I really, really, wanted. Like this.

"When I read that the night I stayed at your house, I realized how different you were. You make things so easy and fun and important." She stepped even closer and then guided me to sit down on her bed. I was right when I had been worried about bumping into something, because the bed was right next to us.

When we were sitting she put her hands on my lap. "I don't love you just because it was _raining." _She emphasized the last word. And then I realized she had also emphasized the word _love_. And then I realized she had said the word love. I made a soft gasp. "I know things are really scary after losing your mom. I've gotten scared."

"Oh, no I-" I started to say it was okay and then stopped. She wasn't apologizing about _that_. It was like a stubbed-toe-reaction. Instead of me stubbing my toe and saying a bad word, someone had brought up my mom and I wanted to say it was okay. "We don't need to talk about that." Definitely not when she was wanting to talk about something that clearly made her very nervous.

"But I love rainy Brittany and I love sunny Brittany."

"Okay," I said it quick. I still couldn't believe she had said love. What did she mean by love? Love how? She should explain love. She probably will explain love. And then I realized that that was kind of a huge thing, especially since she hadn't said it before and her voice had sounded really shaky. "I love you too." I couldn't believe I hadn't responded right away with that. "A lot," I whispered. I didn't think big words needed to be loud.

"Okay, good."

I laughed. "But you already knew that."

She laughed too. "I'm so sorry about yesterday." The apology came out of nowhere. "U-u-hh," her voice shook. She cleared her throat. "I don't know if we should tell me dad, family, about us." She didn't like saying that.

"That's okay," I jumped in.

"Yesterday, the way he spoke to you, it shouldn't have happened." She was getting angry again. "Nobody should-," she stopped and let out a frustrated huff.

I nodded, but knew she couldn't see it. I was waiting for her to decide if she wanted to finish what she had started to say.

"I'm just frustrated," she snapped. Not at me. At whatever she was angry with. She wasn't going to say. Not yet. That was okay. I didn't need to push her. You can't force a flower to bloom and you can't force people to do the same.

"It's okay to be frustrated," I told her. "I'm frustrated that you still haven't kissed me. The rain on my clothes is starting to dry. Soon it's not going to count and we'll have to go back outside to get rainy."

She laughed away all of her frustration.

I leaned in and towards the area I figured her lips would be. Maybe we should have kissed under that little roof thing that covers the porch. Then I could see her face. Or maybe I should have kissed her right after she said love.

When I found her mouth, after my lips fumbled across her cheek, I could hear a little smack. Her breath was so warm and her lips were gentle.

Her hands shifted in my lap. She used one of them to wrap around my hip and scoot me just that last bit closer. Now there was no way I could be sitting any closer to her. She kept her hand there, on my hip, and she squeezed hard. It made her lips feel even softer.

Our kissing noises were really loud. It made me want to kiss faster. So I did. But then I felt her tongue and my lips stuttered. I wanted her to use her tongue again.

Her fingers kneaded at my hip and drifted to my thigh. And then her tongue glided across my bottom lip again. She kissed and then used her tongue. Over and over. I kept stuttering, even when I was expecting it. Each time she used her tongue she squeezed with her hand. It made me arch into her. It made my stomach tighten and it made me spread my legs.

"Maybe..." My lips popped away from hers. She pushed right back against my mouth. "_Maybe..." _I repeated myself, but it was muffled by her kisses. So I just kissed back and it went from heavy to harder. This was what sexy kissing was supposed to feel like. Really wet and slow and then hard and breathy.

Something inside of me pulled. My sleepy butterflies were waking up all groggy and startled and they were running into each other. If I knew it was even possible before right now, I would have put, _get a heartbeat somewhere else in my body, _on my bucket list. Each time she licked in and out of my mouth it felt like my downstairs would swell and slowly deflate. She kept dipping and sliding out and dipping and sliding out of my mouth. It was hard for me to keep up, not because she was going fast, but because it was so much sexy-kissing at once. She knew exactly when to use her tongue and how slow to rub it against mine to keep me going.

She slowed. "Maybe what?" She let out a gasp and then took my bottom lip into her mouth, before she pulled back to let me talk.

It took me a second to remember what I had wanted to tell her. It had to do with it being dark in the room and with our kisses being loud. Maybe. _Oh! _"We should turn on music so people don't hear us kissing." It was hard to talk when I was used to breathing heavy and kissing.

She pecked my lips and then spoke against them. "We're not that loud." She pecked my lips again.

"What if we turned the light on? Maybe nobody will think the kissing noises are kissing noises, because people don't usually kiss with the lights on." I creased my forehead. "But...turning the lights on this late is rude and inappropriate." I quoted Rachel.

Santana pecked my lips again. "Inappropriate, huh?" I knew she was smiling, because of the way she had spoken.

She kept giving me little peck kisses and it made me feel so good. It felt good _down there_, but also good because pecks were for people you liked. They were so you could say something and still kiss at the same time. And it felt good that she wanted to talk to me and kiss me at the same time. The people before her just wanted to make out and stuff, never talk.

"Thank you for going with me last night," she whispered against my lips.

I was glad she said thank you this time, instead of sorry. It made me smile. She didn't need to be sorry. "Did you changed the subject so we don't have to turn the lights on?"

Her laugh rushed against my lips and then she kissed the corner of my mouth. I wasn't sure if she kissed that spot on purpose or not, but it didn't matter. "Now why would I do that?" She leaned back in and kissed my cheek, and then she kissed my jaw, and then kissed the soft part on my neck. They were feather light, tickle kisses.

"You changed the subject so-" my voice felt like it vibrated, because she was still kissing and nipping around my neck. "-I don't see your frizzy hair."

She gasped and let out a laugh at the same time. She pulled her lips away from my neck and pinched and tickled my stomach.

"Stop!" I giggled and fell back onto her bed. I curled into myself and tried to slap her pinches away before I screamed and woke someone up.

She was quick to crawl on top of me and cover my giggle with another deep, stomach pulling, kiss. It made me forget she had been tickling. Her fingers slowly slid from my cheek, past my ear and then weaved through my hair before she pulled me harder into her lips.

We kissed for what seemed like forever. Kissing and kissing. The best part was when she would sometimes pull away and say things. _My hair isn't that frizzy. _She would kiss me again for a while and sometimes bite at my lip to make me giggle. _You're a good kisser. _She kissed me before I could tell her that she was an amazing kisser.

She spoke into our kiss. "Do you really want the lights on?" She stopped. This time she didn't restart the kiss and interrupt my thoughts and potential words. She waited for my answer.

"No. Not if that means you have to get up."

She seemed hesitant, but then said _okay _and leaned down and started to kiss my neck again.

I wanted to make sure she wasn't hesitant about anything having to do with us. "I like doing this," I told her. Her lips continued to work into my neck, but not hard enough to leave marks. Her tongue would touch unkissed parts and then she'd use her lips to turn tingles into a shivers. "I feel like we can say what we want. And it's dark. Like I'm closing my eyes the entire time." I knew those were things I normally wouldn't say out loud and I knew they weren't complete thoughts either. But I was so distracted.

I continued. "It just feels good to be around you and not have to worry about anything other than what to do with the feeling you're giving me between my legs." My eyes shot open. Maybe I shouldn't have said that last part. I didn't know if it was okay to talk about those sort of _feelings _out loud and while they were happening. "I mean," I gulped and I knew she could feel it, because she was still kissing my neck. I didn't want to imply I liked being around her only because she turned me on. "I like being around you because of a lot of reasons and it's not only because you're good at, uh," I gulped again and was so relieved when I felt her lips smile against my neck.

"I know what you mean." She kept kissing. "And you give me that feeling too."

I wanted to kiss her neck too and make her feel tingles. But I didn't want her to stop kissing my neck. Maybe I could touch her. I could do that. She said I was giving her _that feeling. _Maybe that was a hint.

So I lifted my hands and slid them down her side until my fingertips brushed against her shorts. I pulled her shirt halfway up her back. Her skin was soft. I moved my hands back down and fumbled with her button and zipper.

She started to kiss quicker and it made my hands too impatient. They kept slipping. Her stomach was so hot against the back of my hands. So hot and distracting. My fingertips kept grazing her underwear. She kissed harder and I tried to move quicker.

But I couldn't get the button undone. I told her I couldn't.

She moved one hand down to where my hands were and unhooked the button so easily. I liked that she had done for me, so I could touch her.

She moved her hand up to wrap around the back of my neck and continued to kiss below my ear. She was so close. Her cheek was pressed to mine and her lips were whispering distance away from my ear.

I knew what was going to happen and it was making me squirm and shift. We had been kissing for so long that for a second I had forgotten sometimes kissing leads to something more.

I was having a hard time controlling my breathing, my hands and anything else she could feel. My butterflies had turned into galloping horses and I kept having to clench and pinch my thighs together to keep my _horses _from getting too wild.

I hooked my thumbs into her shorts and inched them down. She got up, pulled them off, and then crawled back on top of me. My heart was racing. It needed to go that fast to keep up with us.

Her hair draped against my cheek as she leaned down. Instead of kissing my neck she kissed my lips this time, again. So deep. Her tongue dipped into me so slow and so hard that on its way out of my mouth it dragged a moan with it.

I wanted to touch her. The feeling in my stomach was going to get too big. So I put my palm flat against her skin, below her stomach, and slipped into her underwear.

_Fuck. _It was the only word she said. Her lips stopped kissing and her body curled just a little. Her thighs squeezed together, pinched my fingers, and held my hand where it was. I think she might have been more turned on than I was. At least it felt that way.

I didn't move rub until she started kissing me again. I didn't want to go too quickly. She felt really, really, turned on.

When she went back to kissing me, it was so slow and her lips barely moved against mine and when they did they were shaky. So I did most of the kissing. I pushed my tongue in her mouth and I slipped my fingers through her other lady lips. Up and down and side to side. I moved my fingers quicker when her mouth would become slack and I would slow down when I wanted to kiss her.

It got to the point where she was just whimpering into my mouth, so I kissed the corner of her mouth and her jaw and then her neck, just like she had been doing to me earlier.

I worked my fingers against her faster. Harder. It was making my arm tighten. My fingers slipped sometimes, but I kept going and she kept whimpering.

I pushed a finger inside of her.

_Hmffck. _She clenched.

My finger was inside of her. _Fuck. _I said it. I couldn't decide if I was more eager or surprised by the noise she had made.

She held still. So did I. My lips were stiff against her neck. She was clenching so very tight around my middle finger. It was making my arm almost as hot as she felt inside. She was really hot. And wet.

I wasn't sure why I had done it. I had wanted to do it and had been thinking about it, but then I just did it. Maybe I should have asked. I definitely should have.

Her hand touched the finger I had inside of her. She guided my hand until she pushed my other middle finger inside of her. When she pulled her hand away she gently rocked into my palm. Both of my fingers moved inside of her and it made the entire right side of my body flex.

_Oh my God. _My stomach was doing backflips. It felt like I was pounding in my own underwear. I couldn't even move my fingers. They were being squeezed so hard. _Oh my God._

But I didn't have to move, because Santana just rolled her hips again. My palm was getting wet.

_Fuck. _I said it again.

She kept moving. Each time she rocked she made little muffled noises. I couldn't see her completely, but I could imagine what it looked like, because her chest kept rubbing against mine.

"Oh my God." It slipped through my clenched jaw along with a few other noises. It felt like that heartbeat between my legs was stuck on one, swelling, beat. I didn't know what would happen if it got too big.

Santana stopped moving. It made that _too-big _feeling start to deflate.

"Did you just-?" she whispered.

I shook my head frantically. "No."

She moved to my lips, but didn't kiss. My fingers curl a little inside of her as she moved. It made that pulse throb again.

"It sounded like-" I felt her twitch around my fingers.

I didn't come, but I was pretty sure if she touched me I would.

I was breathing too heavy so I had to wait to speak. "Too many butterflies at once. This is really hot."

"Okay," she whispered and started to kiss me. Lazy kisses.

I wasn't sure what I was doing with my fingers. And I didn't know if she was okay with me moving them a lot. So I moved them carefully. Not much. She was twice as warm and swollen inside. Everything felt like wet silk.

Her kisses became even lazier. It didn't take her much longer after she started rubbing against my palm again. She stopped kissing and held her breath and it felt like inside of her was going to squish my fingers completely. That's when she tucked her face into my neck. She was tightening so much around my fingers and even pushing down harder onto my hand.

She twitched when I pulled my fingers out. They were so wet and slipped against each other. I made a fist and ran my other hand inside the back of her shirt. I wanted to keep touching her. I was restless. My skin felt like it was on fire.

She eventually caught her breath and by then my hand was moving up and down her body so rough. I started to rock my body against her. I couldn't believe how turned on I was and how little control I had over what I wanted.

She sat up and pulled my tank top over my head. The rain soaked fabric peeled from my skin. She laid back on me and reached around my back to unhook my bra. Maybe she knew how hot I was getting and that's why she was taking off some of my clothes.

She slid her hand between us, down my stomach, and into my shorts.

I was right when I figured if she touched me I wouldn't last very long, because after a few little circles it happened right away. I tried as hard as I could to be quiet, but then too much air was in my chest. I pinched my lips together. Only little noises came out. It lasted so long to get through it though, because she kept rubbing.

I think I was sweaty. I couldn't tell what was rain and what was sweat. It was so hot though.

"Now I did," I said after everything stopped feeling like tiny little shocks and instead my body felt numb.

She laughed and lifted off of me, but then laid down beside me and rested her head on my shoulder and hand below my chest. It wasn't that often that she did that, so I quickly wrapped my arms around her to keep her the way she was.

I was about to fall asleep when her voice woke me back up. "This is new...I'd never done this kind of thing with someone I've been in a relationship with." The hand she had resting on my bare skin started to roam and tickle across my ribs.

"Me either." I wrapped my arms tighter around her.

"I have no clue what I'm doing, or how relationships work," she mumbled again.

I didn't either. Obviously I had been single for a reason and guys didn't really look to date me after we did stuff for a reason. "It's okay," I told her.

She rested her hand on my stomach and nuzzled into my chest. She fell asleep first. I think she knew that it was okay and she was just telling me things that were true. I flipped her blanket over us even though I was hot. I had felt shivers start to run through her body. I closed my eyes and fell asleep right away, because Santana was breathing into my skin. It was better than falling asleep listening to rain.


	6. Talking About Her

**a/n : the song for the chapter is thi****s **

**www . youtube . come / watch?v=BQgO5TtBF6g**

**Chapter 6 : Talking About Her**

I shot straight up. I would have screamed if I hadn't been trying to catch my breath at the same time. What was that? I looked around. Where was I?

Santana's room.

My heart was slamming. Was this why my mom had gotten so startled the times I accidentally had woken her up? Because, I swear, it sounded like the house had just exploded.

Obviously that hadn't happened. Everything was fine. Santana's door wasn't even open.

Sometimes Lord Tubbington would jump on dressers and knock things off, but he wasn't even in here. Her lamp was still on her dresser. Her alarm clock wasn't going off. Her blue candles weren't burning things down. They weren't even lit.

There was nothing. But I knew I hadn't imagined it, because Santana was sitting up next to me and looked like she had been electrocuted awake. Her hair was extra fluffy and her eyes were a combination of angry plus scared.

The noise happened again. It wasn't loud. Just a knock on the door_. _That didn't make sense.

The door opened with the continued knock and Quinn poked her head in. She was showered and her hair was still wet, but she was all dressed and had already put makeup on. She always woke up early. I think she liked to be the first one up.

"Santana?" Quinn whispered. She hadn't looked toward the bed yet.

"Oh my God," Santana gasped. She reached for the comforter and shoved it into my chest. I didn't grab it and so it fell into my lap. Santana picked it up again and held it to my chest until I remembered I was topless.

I echoed Santana's gasp and hugged the blanket.

But Quinn had seen. And even though she had already seen my boobs in the shower while she helped me wash puke off, this was a little different. She hadn't seen my boobs in Santana's bed.

"I'm so sorry." Quinn didn't turn around but she locked her eyes on the dresser and held up her hand like one of those visors that horses wear on the side of their eyes so they didn't have peripheral vision and see people were standing next to them.

Quinn should have just looked. I mean, not _looked_, because Santana didn't have pants on. I snapped my eyes to her lap and was relieved to see the blanket was covering her. So it should have been okay, right? It wasn't like Quinn didn't know about me and Santana. She knew. I think. She had to know.

"Get out, Quinn." Santana tried to be sassy, but I think she was too taken off guard to do that.

Quinn stepped back into the hall, but didn't leave completely. "I thought you were sleeping since you didn't answer. I was looking for Brittany." Quinn's voice was deflated.

_Wait._ Should I have told her about this stuff? She looked upset. She was one of my best friends and I hadn't even said anything to her about me and Santana. I should have told her. I just had been too focused on not talking about it. But people get hurt when you keep things from them.

"Quinn, get out." Santana repeated herself with a little more _oomph_.

"Britt, your dad is here." Quinn ignored Santana and peeked at me, past her shielding hand. "He's downstairs."

So was this okay? It didn't feel okay. Yes, of course I wanted people to know I loved Santana, but I couldn't figure out how to explain that to anyone other than Santana.

Quinn was leaving. "Wait!"

Santana jumped and Quinn stopped.

I didn't know why I asked her to wait. I had nothing to say. She watched me and I knew Santana was watching me.

"Tell him she'll be right down," Santana said. "And shut the door…please."

Quinn reached behind her and softly shut the door. Her feet padded down the stairs. It was so quiet, that it sounded like they were echoing through the entire house.

"Fuck." Santana shoved her hands into her face.

I reached for her wrist and tried to hold her hand. She didn't want to hold hands. Her entire body was tense and I could see the little muscles in her jaw from her clenching her teeth.

"Santana?" I put my hand on her blanketed lap. "I can talk to Quinn. Or we can." I tried to think. I couldn't think. "Do you want me to talk to her?" Maybe it would be okay. Quinn was easy to talk to. "_Stupid,_" I mouthed. I made _no _sense. "I do everything opposite."

I dropped the blanket I was hugging and started to scoot out of bed. "I don't get why it's so hard." I was trying to mouth, but I knew I was talking loud enough for Santana to hear. That was fine.

"Wait." Santana grabbed my arm. "Stay in here for a second."

"We should talk to her and make sure it's okay. Quinn is smart so she probably already knows about you and me, but a lot of people are smart and then sometimes they don't understand."

I tried to scoot off the bed again, but Santana just squeezed my arm tighter.

"Wait," Santana let out a sigh. "Wait." She was thinking. I doubted she was thinking as crazy and jumpy as I was, but she was definitely thinking about something.

"Are you sure?" My voice had a weird impatient, almost desperate whine to it. I didn't like it. It made me feel like I was walking on broken eggshells. Like I knew something was wrong and wasn't going to do anything about it.

"Britt." Her voice was opposite of mine. It was gentle and smooth. "It's okay."

"Then why did you look like it's not okay?" _Slam, slam, slam._My heart was starting to ache from beating so hard. "It's not okay." I knew Santana had been upset. I knew she had been horrified when Quinn caught us. The word _caught _made my skin crawl. I didn't like it and I didn't want Santana to feel like her skin was crawling. "What if she doesn't know it's supposed to be a secret?" I paused. "It was an accident."

I accidentally had gone from a blabbermouth to someone who kept secrets from her friends. And Santana was stuck in the middle. "I'm so sorry, I thought it was easier." My voice was shaky and I felt like I should be crying, but I wasn't. I wasn't even close to crying. That was a good thing. Crying now would only mean crunching up more of the eggshells we were supposed to be walking on.

"What was easier?" Santana asked.

I shrugged. I was getting way too worked up and I needed to slow down. Santana wasn't supposed to take care of me and take care of our relationship and take care of her own feelings. "It's hard to explain. And it doesn't make sense."

She waited.

"I want it to be easy. You're easy-," I stopped.

She laughed.

It made me smile. "Not like that," I reassured her.

"I know."

I didn't say anything after that. I sat on the bed and I pinched part of the blanket between my fingers. The only thing I could think to say was something about how I didn't want to ruin my relationship with her, by making something confusing. Especially after she said she wanted to be with me _and _she loved me. And then I was going to add something about eggshells and not wanting them inside my food, but I wasn't about to call Santana _my food_.

I smiled to myself, but not for long. I knew Santana was still waiting for me to say something. "I want us to be easy." I repeated myself.

She responded after she decided I had nothing else to add. "I don't want anyone to walk in on me and someone I'm with. It's private. I-"

"Right, so we should talk to Quinn?" I didn't mean to interrupt, but Santana didn't seem to be the least bit worried anymore. It didn't make sense.

"Britt," Santana scooted to me, "Quinn knows about us."

"Still…" My lips were shaking. I had so much nervous energy running through my body. Like I was cold, but I wasn't.

"Still what?" Her eyes studied me.

"She looked upset," I mumbled.

"She looked startled, because your tits were hanging out."

I nodded. That made sense. Even I had been startled when remembering I was topless. "So, it's okay?" My heart beat one, heavy, beat. It was calm, because Santana had calmed me down, but it still felt weird. I felt weird.

"It is." Santana leaned in and pecked my lips. I wish she had given me the chance to lick them before she had done that. They were really dry. "Completely fine." Santana leaned back.

I smiled. Her kisses always made me smile. Or they turned me on. Sometimes they did both at the same time.

"I'm getting a lock on my door." Santana got up and handed me my shirt and bra that had fallen to the floor. "This shit is getting out of hand. I figured it'd be safe to share a bed since my little cousin wouldn't be here, but the girls are so much worse than him."

I smiled even bigger. I missed her little cousin. Marcus was adorable, even if he was really good at interrupting kisses.

After I put my shirt and bra on, I put my hair up into a ponytail and then I hurried downstairs. My dad was standing halfway in the house with the front door open and his hands shoved in his pockets. I had completely forgotten Quinn had said he was downstairs and so seeing him now was an awesome surprise.

"Hi Dad!" I jumped and skipped the last three steps. "Did you want to see the house? I can give you a tour?"

He pulled his hands out of his pockets. "I was looking for your sister, have you seen her?" He peeked around me and scanned the living room. "I tried your phone, but you didn't answer."

I patted my pockets and realized I didn't have pockets. My phone was probably hiding somewhere in the house or stuffed between one of the couch's cushions. "Did you call her?" I asked.

"She wasn't answering either. Is she not here?" He asked. "She said she stays here with you all the time."

_What?_ No. Hailey never got lost so she shouldn't be missing.

I heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Santana. She looked worried. I think she had overheard my dad.

"Hi, Mr. Pierce." Santana greeted my dad when she finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Did she know where Hailey was? No. She would have said something if she knew.

My dad said hello.

And then Quinn walked out from the kitchen. "Hailey's probably at _Westwind__. _I see her there all the time."

My dad nodded.

What was _Westwind_?

"I'm heading there in a few minutes if you want me to ask her to give you a call?" Quinn sounded confident so it quickly buried the feeling that had started eating at my stomach.

He nodded. "They have services on Monday?"

"Oh, of course, every day," Quinn smiled. "They have choir rehearsals on Mondays."

My dad nodded again and seemed to relax a little.

"I'm headed there now," Quinn announced.

"Me too," I blurted.

My dad relaxed all the way and said bye before he rushed to his car and then probably rushed to work.

I got ready as quickly as I could and when I asked Santana if she wanted to go she said she had to work. So just me and Quinn got into her yellow car and Quinn drove faster than normal through town. It took ten minutes before I realized I didn't know where we were going.

"What's _Westwind_?" I asked. I had to yell, because the top to her car was down and it sounded like a hurricane. Also my hair kept whipping me in the face. "You only have two seats in your car, where is Hailey going to sit? Are you sure she'll be there? I called her phone and she didn't answer so I left her a voicemail." I wasn't sure whether or not to be worried. Quinn didn't look worried. "Do you think she'll be hard to find?"

"It's a church." Quinn slowed down and pulled into a parking lot. There was a huge brown sign that had _Westwind _carved into it.

Church? I didn't know Hailey went to church. I didn't even know Quinn went. I knew Mercedes did. I wondered if Mercedes went to this one. I should ask her.

When Quinn parked her car I jumped out and walked as fast as I could to the front doors. And when I got inside I realized it probably would have been way easier to look for Hailey's car in the parking lot.

I thought about going back outside, but I was already in the lobby. It was big and very empty. Was anyone even here? Had there been cars in the parking lot? I didn't remember.

Straight ahead were doors, missing the doors. They led to a ginormous and very red auditorium. When I peeked in I finally heard music and a piano. Someone was here.

The piano reminded me of Santana. It sounded pretty. So I walked in.

There was a group of people on the stage. They were sitting on bleachers and listening to someone talk. I couldn't hear anything but the piano. Shouldn't the person on the piano be listening to the guy talking too?

The piano stopped and then started again.

I searched the stage. Hailey wasn't up there. But then someone tapped my shoulder. I turned. It was only Quinn and she pointed to the far corner.

Hailey was sitting in the last row. She had her feet up on the bench in front of her and she was playing with her phone.

That was easy. I knew Hailey never got lost.

The choir started to sing. It was soft. _As I lay me down, heaven hear me now._I started towards Hailey and when I glanced back to see if Quinn was following I saw that she was walking to the stage instead.

My sister didn't even acknowledge me when I sat down. Maybe she had seen me before I had seen her.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Sitting." She kept her eyes on her phone.

"Quinn said you come here a lot. I didn't know you went to church." I glanced at her phone. She was clicking through her photos. She didn't say anything. "Do you like it?"

"I don't know. Mom liked this stuff so-". She didn't finish.

Mom did like the church stuff. She didn't go to church or anything like that, but she had a Bible and she would always pray before she would eat.

"Do you sing?" I asked. I looked back at the choir. They had stopped singing and they were all talking and Quinn was talking to the guy at the piano.

Hailey shook her head. "No."

"I sang once at work. It's like a karaoke bar, sort of, but only employees are allowed to sing. Except when it's karaoke night." She was still looking through pictures. "Rachel _always _sings." I smiled, because she knew Rachel and she knew how Rachel always liked to do everything.

"You told me this already." She didn't look up.

I shifted and then sat cross-legged on the bench, but it was too hard to balance so I put one foot on the ground. The benches were uncomfortable and this was the only way I could think to sit. I didn't know if it was rude to put my feet up on pews and I didn't want Hailey to think I was copying her. Sometimes she would get mad when she thought I was doing that. I hadn't seen her in so long, so I just wanted to sit with her.

The choir started up and stopped and started up and stopped singing a whole bunch of times before my sister said something. "Why are you here?"

When I looked at her she had put her phone away and was watching the choir.

"Dad was looking for you." I watched for her reaction. She didn't have one. "Dad was worried." I tried to figure out what she was thinking, but Hailey was hard to read. She always did the opposite of what I expected.

When I told her that before, she said she did it on purpose. Of course she had been teasing.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm so sure he was. Did you know he sold your dirt bike?" She finally looked at me for the shortest second before looking back at the choir. She looked so angry and so much like mom. It was hard to look at.

"You should come stay the night at my new place." I turned so I was facing her. "We can have a sleepover and Rachel can cook dinner. And you'll love all the girls. They're amazing and so much fun. Santana-."

Hailey cut me off before I could tell her Santana kept trying to help me cross things off of my bucket list. "Awesome," she snapped. "I'm sure your friends are wonderful, but no thank you. I do not want to hang out with your friends. It's annoying enough that Quinn keeps sitting by me during church. I'm not about to go to her house and encourage her. Does she not have any other friends or anything better to do?"

I shut my eyes and rolled them. I knew my sister. I knew she didn't make a habit of sitting alone in churches. I have four really close friends that I live with and my sister lives in an empty house without me, without my mom. I didn't need to rub that in her face. "You and me can hang out. Today?" I asked. "I don't work."

She didn't answer. The longer I stared at her the more I realized just how much she missed Mom and how just how much she looked like her. I guess I had forgotten since I hadn't seen Hailey in so long. "What if we went and brought flowers to Mom?" I asked quietly. Maybe she'd want to go visit since she missed her. I wanted to visit.

Hailey looked at me and then looked away again. "I want to watch this."

"I can pick up the flowers and meet you there?" I offered. "You can finish watching."

"It's not over for another couple of hours."

I nodded. That was perfect. "Okay. I can get the flowers and then meet you there?"

Hailey shrugged and then she nodded.

My mouth hurt a little because my smile had gotten so big. "Awesome." I faced forward and folded my hands on my lap and watched a little bit more of the choir before Quinn hopped off stage. I said bye to Hailey and I raced to talk to Quinn.

When we got to her car I told her the plan and she seemed just as excited as I was. Since we had a while to wait for my sister, Quinn said we could stop at her house and hang out.

We drove down the longest and windiest road. It was like driving through an infinite tunnel of trees. It was really pretty. The prettiest road in the world. It looked like the branches were hugging the road and everything was so green.

Then I realized this wasn't the right road. I'd been to Quinn's house before and we weren't even close to it.

"Are we going to your house?" I glanced at her, but then looked back outside because it was so pretty.

"My dad's house," Quinn answered. "My mom and dad are sort of separated, but still together. It's a long confusing story. We're almost there." Quinn looked in my direction.

The trees opened up and the road changed so that we were now driving on cobblestone. I gasped. Her house...

She lived down the prettiest road in the world, and had the biggest house in the world. It had cobblestone pillars, fancy old porch lights, and the entire second was mostly glass windows.

Quinn was one of those people who were pretty on the inside and outside, and then even had pretty things. Some of the most beautiful people have hardly anything, but she had an enchanted mansion.

"This is your house?" I finally pulled my eyes away from the house. "That's your fountain?" I opened the door of her car and leapt out as soon as I had seen it.

I heard Quinn laugh. My knees bumped the concrete edge of the fountain and I leaned over to touch the water. I heard Quinn's door shut and then listened as her heels clicked over the stone.

"I used to throw pennies in here all the time." Quinn stopped right next to me. "We had this one gardener who would always scare me away from the fountain, because he hated picking out the coins."

"Why?" I was bent over and swooshing my hand through the water. There weren't any pennies.

"I made my dad tell him I wanted to keep all of the pennies I threw in, so I could keep making wishes. The gardener would have to pull out handfuls of them every night. He put them in this jar that we kept under the porch. He hated it." She smiled. "He would tell me these terrifying stories about what happens to children when they use the same penny for more than one wish."

I leaned up from touching the water and dried my hands on my pants. "Do you still have the pennies?" I turned and looked at her porch.

"Oh God, no," Quinn smiled. "I was ten and believed his stories. I didn't want to grow an extra arm or have my toenails fall out or get worms in my brain."

"That's awful." I felt my face drop. I would be scared to death of making wishes as a kid if I thought those things could happen.

"Nah." Quinn sat down on the side of the fountain and reached in to play with the water. "For a year I was scared, but then Santana showed me a trick."

It felt like everything lit up inside of me. I liked it when people said Santana's name, I liked talking about her, I liked hearing about her.

I sat down next to Quinn.

"Hold on." Quinn stood up, reached in her pocket and sat back down with a penny in her palm. "She told me that it was easy to tell if a penny had already been used to make a wish."

I was still smiling and staring at the penny in Quinn's hand.

"If there's a chip or scratch or mark on it then that means it's not safe to wish with. We would literally spend hours sitting out here and picking through my jar of pennies."

Ten-year-old Santana was just as sweet as nineteen-year-old Santana.

"That's cute." I picked up the penny from Quinn's hand and started to look at it.

"You can use it if you want." She nudged me.

I thought about it. Maybe I could wish for Hailey to be okay or wish for Santana and her dad to be okay or even wish for Quinn, because sometimes I could tell Quinn was really sad.

I shook my head. I had a better idea. I would save it. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it. "Can I just keep it?"

"Of course." Quinn cocked her eyebrow and watched as I put the penny into my pocket.

"Come on, I want to show you something." Quinn pulled me up by my wrist and led me towards her house.

If she wasn't pulling me then I would have stopped to look at everything. Pink flowers, purple flowers, white flowers, and then orange flowers in flower pots hanging along the porch. There was even vines wrapping around the flower pots. "Did your dad keep the mean gardner around, because he made pretty flowers?"

Quinn laughed very loud. "Yes."

She opened the front door and when I stepped in the first thing I saw was an elevator. I bee-lined straight for it. "You have an elevator!" I pushed the button. It worked. I spun around to face her.

The smile on her face made my insides jump. I had never seen an elevator in a house before. It _dinged_. Quinn stepped in the elevator and gestured for me to follow.

There were three buttons without labels. Quinn pushed the top button and the door closed and we started to go up.

"Why do you have an elevator?" I was looking around. It had that Roman-people-flying-and-finger-pointing picture on the ceiling.

"Ugh." Quinn rolled her eyes. "My dad had it installed when he broke his leg."

"Is that bad?" I pulled my eyes away from the ceiling and looked at her. She looked annoyed.

"Would you need an elevator if you broke your leg?"

I shrugged. I didn't know how to answer that. It'd be convenient.

"He installed the elevator, and then a few weeks later this annoying little boy would constantly be upstairs playing video games in the theater." The elevator stopped and I followed her out. "I would have to push his stupid wheelchair around and _keep him company." _Quinn rolled her eyes and finger quoted the last part of her sentence. "After he was able to walk again he still kept coming over. So I told my mom he got me pregnant and he hasn't been allowed anywhere near the house since."

My jaw dropped. "Puck was in a wheelchair?" I covered my mouth when I realized my voice was loud and had echoed.

"No." Quinn pulled her lips into a tight line. "Artie."

And then I gasped again. _Wait, what? _No. Artie wasn't in a wheelchair. "But he's not in a wheelchair..."

"He _was_."

I forced myself not to gasp again when I realized something else. If I kept gasping I would hyperventilate. "Artie and you were...together? I thought you said it was Puck who go you preg-"

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "It was Puck. I just didn't want Artie around me anymore. He's…" she searched for the right word, "overwhelming. My parents weren't taking me seriously so I said something they would have to take seriously. It was the only way to get rid of him."

"So you don't like him?" I asked. He hadn't seemed overwhelming and now I wasn't really sure what to think about him.

"Definitely not," she paused. "Now-" Quinn grabbed my wrist again and started to lead me down a hallway.

There was door after door. The hallway was like a Scooby Doo cartoon where the monsters could run in one door and out another.

We stopped at the fourth door and she opened it. It was a library. Shelves and books and tables and desks. There was even a ladder to move around so someone could climb and get books on higher shelves. It was exactly like in Beauty and the Beast. Quinn was definitely Belle.

"Your house is like all of the cartoons combined." Beauty and the Beast had to have been the hundredth reference I had thought of since seeing her house. "What are in the other rooms?" My eyes were so wide. It felt like they were going to fall out.

"There's a fur room, a couple of spare bedrooms, a bathroom, a piano room," she was using her free hand to count each room, "and then there's this room with a pool table and a jukebox."

I didn't really hear anything after _fur room._"What's a fur room?" I had never heard of a fur room and I kept imagining animal skin walls. I liked the fake rug Santana had in her room, but an entire room seems a little intense.

Quinn let out the loudest laugh. "It's just a closet with my mom's fur jackets. They're all fake. Really expensive, fake, fur."

"Oh."

We weaved around a bookshelf and headed for a door. Quinn was still laughing when we left the library. We were in a much shorter hallway. "Your house is like Narnia, except it's the house part before Narnia, not the actual woods part of Narnia."

I heard her say something_, _but I stopped by a door that had been cracked open before I could ask her to repeat it. Each time we passed doors, I kept having a stronger and stronger urge to open them.

So I opened this one.

The door creaked when I touched it. Inside were boxes stacked on top of each other. The room was no bigger than my room, but had shelves like it used to be a really big pantry. In the corner there was an open box with Easter decorations and egg coloring kits.

"You must have the best Easter egg hunts." I walked over to the box and picked up the unopened egg coloring kit. It had a lot of dust on it so I put it back down and picked up a chocolate bunny the size of a big book. "Why didn't you eat this, Quinn?" I turned around, but she wasn't in the room. "Quinn?" I called for her, but no louder than I had just spoken. I wasn't sure if I should be yelling.

A few seconds later Quinn poked her head into the room. "What are you doing in here?" Her eyes snapped to the chocolate bunny in my hands. She was trying to play off her initial reaction and not look worried. She wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"It was open." I put the chocolate bunny back in the box. I shouldn't touch things that weren't mine. "I didn't know..."

Quinn shook her head, but still wasn't able to shake away that uneasy look. She walked into the room and picked up the bunny.

"How come you didn't eat it?" I asked again.

Quinn set the bunny aside and started to sift through the rest of the box. That's when I noticed there weren't just Easter decorations inside. It had other things, like bunny outfits for babies.

"Maria sent this when I was staying with Santana and her father." Quinn pointed to the shipping stamp on the box. "I didn't even know Santana had mentioned me being pregnant to her mother until I this arrived in the mail."

I didn't smile. I wasn't sure if Quinn thought that was a good thing or not, because she wasn't smiling.

"He," Quinn moved a few more things around, "was supposed to be due on Easter." She held up a _onesie_ with cartoon bunnies on it.

The outfits were the cutest things I had ever seen. One even had a hood with bunny ears and a tail. The butt flap on the back of it said _Little Bunny Poo Poo. _I laughed and showed Quinn and she laughed and took it to look at it closer. "I never looked at these. Santana's mom is crazy." Quinn looked up. "The good kind of crazy."

She continued, "I thought about looking at them when I found out I was pregnant again even though the baby wouldn't be due anywhere near Easter."

"They're cute," I reached down and picked up more baby clothes.

"Yeah, well, I would much rather that these stay in this room." Quinn put the clothes back in the box and then I handed her the ones I was holding. "God knows I could not handle taking care of a child on my own."

_But maybe you would have helped. _It was what she had said to me when she lost her last baby. I remember everything she had said, because when people were that upset their words had a million times more impact. Listening to someone talk while they were crying was like watching a thunderstorm. It was beautiful and terrifying.

"You wouldn't have had to do it alone," I told her. She had friends and I would have helped if I could have. "It could have been like three men and a baby, except five girls and a rabbit." I pointed at the box of baby clothes.

Quinn breathed out a laugh.

"And maybe Puck would help," I shrugged. "He helped me once."

Quinn rolled her eyes and instantly stopped smiling. "Are you talking about the time he fed you shots until you passed out and then threw up while you were passed out? Or the time when he got you high outside of Tina and Mike's place?" Quinn lifted an eyebrow. "Puck is nowhere near mature enough to take care of a child."

"Maybe." I shrugged again. I knew he was a good guy though, even if he liked to party and drink and smoke and drive his car really, really, fast. "Sometimes people surprise you."

Quinn laughed again, but it was a tense laugh. "That they do. I was _very _surprised this morning when I walked into Santana's room." She looked back at the baby clothes and didn't look at me. I don't think she meant to say what she had just said. But she wasn't taking it back.

I should say something. "Sorry," I started, but then remembered Quinn getting mad for me saying _sorry _too much so I started over. "I mean, I didn't-, don't-, Santana and me-." My voice was cracking, so I took a breath. Santana said Quinn already knew. And I knew I trusted Quinn. And I knew what Quinn had seen this morning and what walking in on someone being topless in another girl's bed meant.

"So... what? You guys are dating or something." She did that tense laugh again. But it was a statement, not a question. She definitely knew.

"Yes." She didn't say anything back. So I said more. "We talked about things, and Santana figured you already knew-" Quinn was staring at me and my sentence trailed off. "Do you know? About Santana and me being more than friends?" It sounded _so _weird saying that out loud.

"Of course I do." Quinn was flustered. "I've known since that night yo-, y-your windshield was busted." She looked so uncomfortable. She probably didn't want to talk about _this._ "I know what making out looks like. You had Santana's lip gloss smeared all over your mouth." She stopped and took a breath and seemed to steady herself. "What I don't know is, why Santana is suddenly _different."_Her tone became sharper. "It doesn't make sense, and believe me when I say I'm a little worried she's using you."

_What?! _

I started to say something, but Quinn kept going. "And I have no doubt she cares about the way you make her feel, but that's about it. Santana doesn't have people stay the night. She doesn't even have friends. She's Santana…"

_What? _No. "She has lots of friends." I spoke in between Quinn's sentences. What was she talking about? It felt like I had missed something very important that would make what she's saying make sense.

"I've seen how she treats the guys she dates. The last guy she dated smashed in the windshield of your truck. He didn't do that for nothing, Brittany. People do things like that when they have a pretty big reason to."

"He did it because he thought I was a boy," I explained. I spoke quickly because I wanted Quinn to not believe what she was saying. He thought I was some guy in Santana's car and I wasn't. "I don't think he would have been as mad if he knew I was a girl." He liked boys. Santana could like girls. She could like anyone.

"You-," Quinn stopped herself and took a breath. "Okay." She took another breath. "I'm sorry, I have no right to be saying any of this. I just don't understand."

"That's okay." She had a right to not understand. I think she was just fired up because of all the baby stuff we were looking at. "What don't you understand?"

She was hesitant at first, but then decided that if I was asking then it was okay to say. "Santana," Quinn paused, "you. Why she's acting differently around you. I guess I just don't know how you two decided you wanted to be more than friends."

"I like Santana a lot," I said. "I like being around her."

"I understand that."

"Is it because we're girls?" I studied her and she didn't even flinch at all so I knew that wasn't the reason.

"No." She proved me right. "Maybe. I don't know. Do you like her _because_ she's a girl? Is that why you like being around her?"

I thought about it for a second before I answered. "I like being around her because she's Santana." I wasn't sure if her gender had anything to do with it. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way I would still like Santana.

Quinn was running her fingers over a few of the boxes and drawing circles in the dust. "So the fact that she's a girl has nothing to do with you being naked in her bed." Again it was a statement, because I think she already knew the answer. "Would you date another girl?"

Quinn was asking a lot of questions. I knew my relationship with Santana was something new and different and probably confusing for people if they weren't me or Santana. I would want to ask questions if I was confused. "I love Santana." Saying that made me get excited-goosebumps.

Quinn just nodded and pulled her phone out of her pocket. "We should get going so you have time to get flowers and I have time to make it to work without being late."

I said okay, and then we put all of the baby things back in the boxes. Quinn didn't ask any more questions, but if she wanted to then I would answer them. I just wanted her to know I wasn't going to keep secrets.

As soon as we finished putting everything away we weaved back through her house, rode the elevator down, and then she drove me back to our house to get my truck.

She apologized a few times and said that she really didn't mean to say what she had said about Santana. She said she was worried about me getting hurt and mentioned the night that guy had broken my windshield again. She also said I knew what I was doing.

Before I got out of Quinn's car I leaned over and hugged her. She looked like she needed one and I think she felt bad for saying stuff about Santana.

On my way to meet Hailey I stopped at the grocery store. The flower shop was too far away. I picked the prettiest flowers, got a vase, and I got a water bottle.

Then I went through Finn's line. We talked about the housewarming party this last weekend and since I didn't have a lot of groceries we didn't get a chance to talk about anything else.

I drove as quickly as I could without endangering the cars in front of me. Sometimes my brakes don't work very well. I beat Hailey there, so I took everything I had bought out of the back of my truck and I started to walk through the cemetery. It took me a bit to figure out the right row, but then I did.

Mom didn't have anything fancy. Just a little stone plaque with her name and the years, _1974-2012._This was the first time I had been to her grave since the funeral. It felt weird. It felt like I was just standing on grass and like my mom wasn't here. Maybe putting the flowers in her room would have been a better idea. She had never even been to this cemetery, but she had been in her room a whole bunch of times.

"Hi Mom," I mumbled. Maybe talking would make it feel more like my mom was here.

It worked. Good. I didn't want Hailey to come here and feel more lonely.

My body deflated and I wanted to sit down. So I did. I didn't know what else to say, or if she could hear me. Maybe it didn't matter. I started to hum and tap and pick at the grass around me. I didn't want to talk, because I didn't want to be crying when Hailey got here.

But it hurt to hold it in. It made it hard to breathe. But I just kept humming and trying to distract myself. I had picked all the grass from one spot and I still felt breathless. My eyes were cloudy, but it felt like if I cried then they would get too dry.

"Santana said she loved me," I mumbled and my voice broke. Tears were getting stuck in my throat. Dry tears that would always be stuck and that I couldn't do anything about. I grabbed the little glass vase that I had bought at the store and I opened my water bottle. "I was at Quinn's house today and she had this fountain in her front yard." I paused because I had to hold my breath to keep myself from making a sad noise. "She had this fountain and she used to make wishes in it and told me this story about how her and Santana used to search a jar of pennies her gardener would pull out from the fountain to find coins that hadn't been wished on." I laughed 'cause I just realized something. "That doesn't even make sense. They had to all be wished-on coins if they had been in the fountain." I laughed but stopped when my laugh cracked.

I sat still, held my breath, and tried to calm down. Talking was definitely not going to keep me from crying. But I really wanted to talk. I wanted to tell my Mom everything. And talking like this was easy.

"Quinn, I'm not sure if I ever told you about her, she gave me this penny and said that I could make a wish in her fountain, but then I decided that maybe me and Hailey could come here and maybe you could have the wishing penny?" My voice almost cracked again, but I caught it. "Hailey's on her way. She was at a church."

I poured the water into the vase and then started to put the flowers inside. I would wait until Hailey got here and ask her if she wanted to put the penny in.

"I think you would really like Santana." I kept forcing gulps down my throat. "She's the sweetest person. I met her dad at this work party and he was a little scary, but that means he loves her." I paused. "Sometimes you were scary."

I sat for a few minutes longer and eventually I was able to calm myself. I had started picking at a new spot of grass. "I think I might be ruining your grass." I smiled and stopped picking at it.

I ran my finger over the little spots of dirt and smoothed them out. I put the grass I had picked out back onto the dirt spots.

"Britt?" I heard my name and snapped my attention behind me.

Santana was standing there.

"Oh," I wiped at my face not sure if tears were still there. "Is Hailey with you?" I looked around, but Santana was the only one here.

"She texted me and asked if I could tell you she couldn't make it." Santana walked up and sat on her knees right next to me.

My body deflated again, but I think I was too worn out from trying not to cry to be able to cry at all. "How come she didn't text me?"

Santana pulled out _my_ phone from _her_ purse. "I think your sister knows you." Santana handed me my phone. "Here."

I nodded. Coming was for Hailey. But if Hailey wasn't ready then that was completely okay.

"_You _are the sweetest person." Santana grabbed my hand.

I squeezed Santana's hand and I started to pick at a new spot in the grass with my other hand. We just sat there and I picked at the grass. I didn't say anything and she didn't either, and it was probably one of my most favorite moments in my life.


	7. Untitled

**a/n: Hope you like the chapter! Let me know your thoughts! :)**

**Chapter 7 : Untitled**

"This is the first time I'm having dinner with my girlfriend." I listed another first time. I was going to win.

A small laugh pushed past Santana's lips. She has had the same smile plastered on her face since we had been home and had been listing _firsts. _

"Except we had dinner last night together, so that doesn't count, Britt." Santana leaned back in her chair, but left her hands on the kitchen table. She was tracing the wood grain shapes with her finger. French tables had a lot of spirally wood.

I absolutely loved it when she was this open and this relaxed, because it wasn't often that it happened. Especially not recently.

"I mean," I cleared my throat and got up from my chair, "this is our first dinner together, alone." I peeked over my shoulder when I reached the stove.

She nodded once in response.

I turned back to the water I was boiling. "And this is the first time I'm cooking dinner for someone. And the first time I'm cooking dinner for someone I'm dating. And the first time I'm cooking dinner for my girlfriend." I smiled. I was definitely going to win.

"That's cheating," Santana immediately responded. "Those are all the same thing. You can't do that."

I picked up the box of macaroni and cheese from the counter and read the instructions for the third time. I didn't want to mess up. "They're not the same thing." I opened the box, pulled out the powdered cheese packet, and then poured the dry noodles into the boiling water. "Cooking dinner for Rachel is completely different than cooking dinner for you." I set the box back on the counter in case I needed to double check cooking times again. Then I walked back to sit at the table with Santana.

"How's it different?" Santana cocked an eyebrow.

"Well-" I leaned back in my chair, just like she was doing. "Rachel can't eat cheese, because she's a vegan, so I wouldn't cook her macaroni and cheese."

The competitive look on Santana's face softened. "Still," she sat up and rested her elbows on the table with her chin in her hands, "I thought we were saying relationship firsts, about us." She shifted a little. She was still calm, but each time it was her turn she would get a little fidgety and sit up like she was sitting on the edge of a cliff. I knew it was because of what happened the other night. She had told me she didn't know things about relationships. Talking about anything you didn't know how to talk about was scary.

But it's cool she's brave enough to sit next to an edge she doesn't know much about.

"You know," I hummed. "Everyone thinks it's the prince who's brave when he stabs dragons and saves the princess. It's not."

"No?" Santana forced her smile to stay hidden behind her lips.

I was about to say something about pumpkin drivers and being brave for letting a princess get inside their pumpkin even though it's hard to drive a pumpkin and not a lot of people do it, but I didn't. I wanted Santana to take me seriously.

But I was having a hard time finding the exact words I wanted to say. So I went back to the game. "Fine, then this is the first time I've cooked dinner for someone I'm dating," I stated again, using that as my final answer.

She sat up straight. I knew she had started thinking, because her eyes were drifting over the wood grains in the table. "This is," she perked up when she thought of something, "this is the first time I've had someone I'm dating cook dinner for me." During our game, each time she had said something or had thought of something, she would get the same victorious, lip-pouting, grin. She had it now.

"No fair." I stood up and skipped two hops over to the stove to check and make sure the water wasn't _volcanoing _out of the pot. And it wasn't. "You just copied what I said."

"How is that any different than you saying three of the same exact thing each time it's your turn," Santana snapped and her voice rose just slightly. I turned to look at her and she was holding both hands up in defense. "Nuh uh." She crossed her arms and pinched her lips together. "If you cheat then I cheat. Besides," her voice rose more and she spoke even quicker, "I didn't even cheat. I said something that's a first for me and those are the rules."

Santana was the feistiest ball of fire in the world, but I liked that she cared about a game that had to do with our relationship. I also liked that she wasn't going to let me win, just because we were dating or something silly like she felt bad that we had just spent an hour in the cemetery. I liked that she was still Santana. "No cheating."

"Fine." Santana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine." she shook her head briefly with her eyes still closed. "Uhm." She wanted to say something. She had been wanting to say something. That was why she had made this into a game. It started after leaving the cemetery and I said that was my first time giving someone flowers. And then she reminded me that I had given her a fake flower during the Valentine's night at work a couple of months ago.

I rested my head on the table. "You're really pretty," I mumbled. It was one of the stray thoughts that had gotten out while I was waiting for her response. My eyes snapped open. _Oops._ I didn't want my comment to distract her.

Her lip twitched and she smiled. She held her hands up between us to shield her face and hushed me.

I smiled and closed my eyes. "Okay, ready, go. Your turn." I encouraged her to continue and laid my head back down.

She didn't say anything for a while. We just sat there. After a bit I was thinking she might have thought I had fallen asleep, but then she finally said something. "Your sister knows about us," Santana whispered. It was a simple whisper with no defensiveness or playfulness.

"What?" I sat up and my cheek peeled up from the table. _What, what, what? _That was the only word I could think of. "What?" I said it again. "Was that why she didn't come to the cemetery?" Hailey was someone who had a lot on their plate. I didn't need to add to her plate. "Are you sure she knows? Did she tell you?"

"When she sent me a text earlier," Santana started, "she asked if I could meet you in the cemetery. She said she couldn't make it."

I nodded, almost begging her to continue. Hailey barely knew Santana so how could she know about us? My throat was getting weirdly dry and I swear I could feel the boiling water from all the way across the kitchen creeping across the skin of my neck.

"She said she knew about me and you and she wasn't stupid." Santana's eyes were flicking over every inch of my face.

I shook my head. "But you didn't say she was stupid." It was a statement, not a question. Of course Santana would never say that. "Should I call her?" I went to stand up, but then just sat back down. "Is that all she said?" My voice was so eager. I couldn't decide if I was excited or if I was anxious. I wanted Hailey to know everything about everyone important in my life, but not if she wouldn't like it.

Santana shrugged and spoke with her shrug. "I told her I knew she wasn't stupid and that I loved you," she said it like it was the simplest thing. "Hailey said, 'okay'_." _

Santana always knew exactly what to say. How did she know what to say? "Thanks."

"Thanks?" Santana scrunched her forehead. "That was okay?"

Why wouldn't it be okay? "Yes."

She still looked unsure.

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" I asked. Maybe I was missing something.

"I wasn't sure-." Santana was studying me, waiting to find an answer. "I just, I…I figure some people might find it _different. _Find us _different_. Because we're girls." Each sentence had a short pause in between it and the last sentence was really quiet. "I didn't know if you wanted her to know."

I knew what Santana was getting at. She was worried I would think Hailey would react like my mom had. And yes, the thought had crossed my mind. For a few seconds, right when Santana said that Hailey knew, my entire body froze and tensed. But then I realized that I knew Hailey and that Hailey knew me. Sisters were different and they knew things about each other.

"I don't like you because you're a girl, silly." I stood up and walked over to the stove. I had forgotten about the noodles. "I think Hailey knows that." Saying that reminded me of some of the things Quinn had asked. It was weird to think people had reactions to relationships. It didn't make sense.

The noodles weren't black. _Good. _I took a wooden spoon and started to stir. But it wasn't working. The noodles were sticking to the bottom of the pan. I scraped harder and some of them weren't even coming off. "Crap," I whispered so Santana wouldn't hear.

"It's your turn," she called from the table.

I was about to say her turn didn't even count, but I guess her saying _she loved me _to my sister was a big first. "Uh," I grunted and pushed a little harder against the pan. A few noodles ripped and a few came off whole. "Pass for now, I'll think of two for my next turn." I tried to get a better look at the noodles, but the steam was too hot and would burn my eyes.

"Last night was the first night I…." she drew out the last part almost in a sing-song voice. I peeked over my shoulder and saw her eyes searching the ceiling for an answer. She pulled her eyes back to me. "I don't know if I want to make you blush. You might get distracted and ruin the macaroni."

I think she had winked, but I turned away from her. I tried even harder to get the torn noodles unstuck from the pan. Also I was blushing. Last night was hot and thinking about it made me feel hot.

Her chair scooted back across the linoleum and her bare feet patted against the floor until I could feel her standing right behind me. She peeked past my shoulder. "Here-" she grabbed my wrist that was holding the handle of the pot, "-take it off the burner." I did as she said and set it on a cold burner.

She turned the stove off.

I waited for the steam to clear and the bubbles to stop. When they did I brought the pan to the sink and drained the water. It could still work. Most of the noodles were torn, but that would be okay, because some weren't.

"Stupid," I hissed under my breath and dropped in the butter and poured in the milk. "All pans always stick." I had set the pan on the counter and was stirring everything together.

I was so distracted with figuring out how to fix the food, I didn't even realize Santana had left my side and was sitting back at the table. She was patiently waiting for her bowl. So I poured the macaroni into two bowls and carried them over to the table with two spoons.

"Thank you," Santana said as I set her bowl down and sat in my seat.

She was waiting for me to eat first. I didn't want to eat ruined macaroni. I knew it was a silly thing to be frustrated over, but I didn't understand why I couldn't even boil noodles. She had just done one of the most difficult things in the world. She had said something to my sister, who was probably the most intimidating sister ever. Not that Santana would get intimidated. Just me. Just me and my ruined noodles.

I sloshed the noodles around the bowl with my spoon a little too quickly and some of them fell out. I didn't even bother picking them up. They weren't whole noodles, only pieces. What was Rachel going to do, tell me to pick up my half noodles from the table? She wouldn't even know what they were. She couldn't get upset if she didn't know what they were.

"Are you not hungry?" Santana asked. She was still waiting for me to eat first. When we had made sugar cookies with her little cousin, I accidentally put in _way too much _salt.

I didn't answer.

Santana stood up and pushed in her chair. She walked over to me, bent down, and I thought she was going to kiss my cheek, but instead she whispered into my ear. "I want to try something." Her lips just barely grazed my ear. She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my chair.

"What?" I asked. "A restaurant?" Suddenly ruining macaroni and cheese didn't seem so bad. "Let me clean the bowls up before we leave."

"What?" Santana shifted her eyes to the bowls and then back to me. "No, you can leave those." She looked around at a few other things. Down the hall, out the window in the kitchen. "I want to try something I saw," she paused, "not in person…Uh." She cleared her throat, but didn't have anything else to add.

If it weren't for how close she was standing and for her hand hovering near my hip I would have been entirely confused. But I wasn't. She was standing close, talking different, and being shy. She only acted like this when it had to do with sexy things.

She played with my shirt and _fixed _it. And then she grabbed my hand. She moved quick and started to pull me through the house. My heart and stomach were flipping. Mostly my stomach. She locked the front door, locked the back door and then pulled me upstairs. Going upstairs was my favorite part. I had never been led upstairs for sex reasons.

She pulled me into her room and shut the door. I couldn't slow my stomach flips down and I couldn't hide my smile.

_Wait_, coming up here was for sex reasons, right? "So you watched something?" I asked.

She was wedging a chair under the doorknob. This was definitely a sex reason. It made my nerves start to twist all over again. I crossed one foot over the other and pinched my thighs together.

I was turned on and she didn't even have to do anything. The thought of her _watching _things… things to try with me…it made my insides feel like they were being wrung out. Wetness was starting to slip between my thighs. "Santana?" She was adjusting the chair.

I was getting anxious and impatient. I wasn't usually impatient, but I was.

"Hm?" She still was fiddling with the chair.

I didn't ask again. I didn't really need to. I already had most of my answer and I wanted Santana to not feel rushed. Sometimes she took her time when processing sex stuff. I was just a little too anxious to find out what she had watched. Maybe I should start watching stuff.

She walked over to me and sucked my bottom lip into her mouth. I hadn't expected it and didn't kiss back right away. I was still thinking about things she could have watched. But then I did kiss back.

Her lips were so aggressive. They were soft, because they were always soft, but aggressive. She bit my lip and backed me up against the wall. Something about the way she was kissing so fast and how it felt like it was because she was so turned on, turned me on. The beat between my legs turned into a heavy pulse and it made my entire body go rigid. A grunt pushed into her mouth.

I followed the grunt I had made with an attempt to say something. "Uuhh Gd-." I wanted to slow my body down. Or maybe catch it up. Whichever, because my thoughts and body weren't on the same page, because I kept imagining what was going to happen.

Each time her tongue pushed into my mouth I imagined it pushing inside of me, down there, and I wondered if her tongue would feel as warm as it felt right now if it was between my thighs. She could use her mouth _and_ her fingers. I rocked my hips toward her wondering what my body would do if she had her fingers shoved inside of me. I wanted her to do that, what I had done to her last night. Right now. With her fingers.

She pushed up on her toes and deeper into the kiss and I tightened the hold I had against her hips. The way we moved was like dancing, even though it wasn't really dancing. It was uncontrolled and frantic, but at the same time it was fluid. Also wet.

She knew how to kiss me.

She pulled my tank top up a little and I was about to pull away so she could lift it over my head, but she kept a hold of my lip with her teeth. The bite wasn't hard enough to hurt. Or maybe I didn't notice it hurting, because the wetness and softness of her lips soothed the bite.

With her palms flat against my back and her pinky fingers teasing the top of my shorts, she took a breath away from the kiss and then slid her hands inside my underwear. She grabbed my butt.

"H-h-hmmuh." My breath shook as her hands squeezed. _Holy shit_.

She pressed me hard against the wall and squeezed her fingertips against the skin of my butt. No kiss, but she moved against me and she sighed. Her boobs. That was all I felt push into me. And her hands squeezing. I didn't know boobs could feel so good. We should hug like this more often.

The muscles in my legs tightened. It was getting hard to stand. "Fuh Snt." I tried to say something, but her mouth interrupted me and her lips swallowed my words.

Her hands kneaded up and then her palms slid back down my butt. We knocked against the wall.

She popped her lips away from mine. "Take your pants off," she said.

I was overwhelmed and way too turned on. It was hard to think straight, but the instant she pulled her hands out from the back of my shorts I did what she said. It took me a second to figure out how unbutton my shorts, but when I remembered I unzipped them as fast as I could. She helped me wiggle out of them.

Her fingers started to tickle the fabric of my underwear. It was sticking between my legs. I knew she would know that when she pulled them down and touched them. I looped my thumbs underneath the waistband.

Santana caught my hands and she laced her fingers through my fingers. She kissed me again. _Soft lips, wet lips. _There was something about how soft this kiss was, after how worked up I had gotten. It was making my body buzz. It was sweet. She even let go of one of my hands and pressed her palm against my cheek and weaved her fingers through my hair.

The further she tangled her fingers through my hair the further my body relaxed and wanted to fall into her.

Her thumb was making small circles just behind my ear. Her lips worked mine. It felt like we were dancing again. She was making sure we were together.

She let go of my other hand and slid her hand up my stomach. I could feel my heart pounding against her palm. It made my heart beat even harder knowing she could feel it. But I didn't want her to think I was nervous. I didn't want her to stop, so I tried to slow it down, but I couldn't.

She slowed her lips and moved them away from mine. _No. _She didn't need to stop kissing. My heart was just excited. It was fine. She caught my eyes for a second, before she got down on her knees.

She sat on her calves. She had moved so quick and without warning, it had left me a bit behind and dazed.

She lifted herself back up so her lips were even with my belly button. And that was where she restarted her kisses.

"Oh my God," I whispered. Every single one of my stomach muscles tightened.

She was kissing my butterflies and making them worse. The pressure of her lips against my stomach and the way she was clenching at the back of my thighs with her hands was making my entire body lean into her. She was so close and I was so turned on. She had to know, or see. Could she see? Smell? I wanted to take my underwear off. They were too sticky and thinking about it was making me a little distracted.

I looped my thumbs under the waistband again and I started to inch them down, slowly, so she would know what I was doing. And I was right when I had thought my underwear would stick between my thighs, because they were definitely sticking.

She grabbed my underwear, her lips still slipping across my stomach, and pulled them down all the way. I stepped out of them and kicked them away. I was kind of glad she didn't have to really _touch _them.

She was still so close down there and now I had no underwear. It made everything a million times more intense. Each time I thought she would move her kisses _lower, _I held a breath. And each time I did that, I pinched my thighs together and could feel them slide against each other.

She kept kissing my stomach and I kept reaching down with one of my hands and pulling her hair back from her face. I wanted to see what she was doing.

Her hand slid down one of my legs until her palm cupped the back of my knee. "Lift your leg," she spoke into my stomach.

She stopped kissing. I wasn't sure what exactly she wanted me to do. Lift my leg where? So she did it for me. It wasn't graceful, but she helped me and now I had one of my legs draped over her shoulder. Her face was so close _down there_ and I was completely spread open. Now she could see.

When her lips touched me I must have said something or moved a certain way to get her to smile against me. Desperately I tried to control the way my body was curling into itself. And I tried to look back down at her, but my eyes wanted to shut and my mouth wanted to part and gasp. So that was what happened.

She licked into me and I felt her tongue slip through how wet I was. She hummed and smiled again and the noise she made against me vibrated.

She licked and I thought that might soothe how sensitive I felt, but it didn't. It just made my body twitch. She licked. And then she licked deeper. And then she did it one more time before her lips pushed against me and kissed.

She held still and I tried to calm myself, but I kept thinking about how her lips were getting so wet and now even wetter because of me.

Her hand squeezed the back of my thigh. She pushed the tip of her tongue against that sensitive spot and it made my hips jerk into her. She did it again and my stomach tightened. Again. But she wasn't doing it hard enough. So I wrapped my hand around the back of her head and pulled her into me. Her lips pushed so much harder against the spot. It made my stomach inflate.

I stopped. I hadn't meant to do that. I wasn't even sure why I had done it instead of only think it. "Sorry," I said. My voice sounded weird, because all I had been hearing were wet noises and heavy breaths.

She didn't look up. She curled her lips around that spot and sucked, hard. "Ff-f-f-ck." I was shaking and didn't care that I was being loud. "Sn," I tried to say her name in between a breath, but was cut short. "Santana," I said it this time.

"Sorry." She spoke between my legs. She stopped sucking.

"Keep going," I begged her. I was so close. Why was she apologizing? "Keep going," I said it again even when her lips were already kissing me.

She scooted a little closer. The inside of my thigh was touching her ear. "Move closer to me," she spoke and kept kissing.

I moved that last little inch.

Another gasp, that sounded more like a whine, crawled up my body. _Fuck._ My voice was getting hoarse with all the gasps and breaths I was taking. She kept working her tongue and her lips against me. She would always slow down when I started to clench too much and it would quiet the nerves stinging down there. And while I unwound she would place little kisses all over the inside of my thigh. The sweetest kisses ever.

It was too much. She moved her lips back and I took a deep breath in as her tongue pushed against that sensitive part. Her lips followed with a swallowing kiss.

I squeezed her shoulder, probably too tightly.

The noise I made was a noise I had never made before. It wasn't a scream, because it was too soft, but it was pretty darn close. It was more like a cry, but a good, muffled, cry.

She kissed and rubbed with her tongue until it was too sensitive and I jerked away. I caught a few shaky breaths before she stood up and I pulled her into a hug. That was a lot.

She was nuzzled into my neck and squeezing around my waist. My heart was hammering and I knew she could feel it. I didn't care anymore. Holy crap… "Holy crap." I echoed my thoughts.

Santana's body shook as she laughed.

"What the heck did you watch?" I asked. "I need to watch it."

She laughed again. I liked how it felt when her chest shook against me.

"The girls are getting off work soon," she spoke into my neck. "We should get cleaned up and see if they want to get dinner."

I nodded and unwrapped my arms from her. She did the same. I didn't realize how hot it was until she stepped away from me. It was like a sauna. Even her cheeks looked flushed.

Didn't she want me to do what she had done? I would definitely do it.

I think she knew what I was thinking. She leaned in and pecked my cheek. "They really will be here any second."

I frowned, but nodded. She was right.

"I'm going to hop in the shower really quick." She bent down to pick up my underwear and shorts. I panicked and froze. It was stupid. I knew it was stupid. She had just had her mouth down there, I doubted she would care if my underwear were sticky. She handed them to me and I balled them up.

"Everything okay?" Santana smiled and her eyes flicked to the ball of clothes in my fists.

I nodded and smiled.

"I'll be right back." She pecked my cheek before racing off to the shower.

I considered joining her, because a post-lady-sex shower would be the best thing in the entire world, but I guess it wouldn't be the best idea if she wanted to take a quick shower. I could shower when she was finished.

I went to my room to get clean clothes. I ended up slipping on a pair of sweatpants and then heading downstairs to wait for the shower. Lord Tubbington followed me and cuddled with me on the couch while I waited.

"Did you hear that?" I whispered to him and scratched under his chin. I was referring to the noises I had made, figuring it wasn't inappropriate to talk about sex-noises if he didn't understand what I was saying. "That was crazy, wasn't it," I kept scratching. "I bet you're wishing you would have asked her out when you had the chance?"

It still wasn't dark yet, but getting close. I leaned forward to peek out the front window and saw a truck parked along the curb. I figured it was one of the neighbors, but then nobody got out. And then I remembered if it was the neighbors then they would park in front of their own house.

I lifted a very grumpy Lord Tubbington off of my lap and set him on the cushion next to me and then I went over to the front window.

There was a guy sitting in the truck. He looked so familiar and then when he looked at the house I recognized him. It was Santana's friend, the one I had met at her dad's work party. Dave.

I walked towards the door and stepped out on the porch. He probably didn't know which house was ours. He saw me and I smiled and waved at him before hopping off the porch and walking towards his truck.


	8. Leaf

**Chapter 8 : Leaf**

"Shoot!" I lunged after Lord Tubbington the second I saw him slip out the front door. He was really easy to catch. He has always been easy to catch. I wasn't sure if it was because he didn't like running or because he wasn't sure where to run to whenever he got a chance to escape.

I hefted him over my shoulder. The only way he would let me carry him was like a sack of potatoes, otherwise he would squirm. I needed to put him inside. I glanced back at the front door I had left open.

The door to Dave's truck shut and it made cat claws dig into my shoulder. It sounded like trash can lids slamming together. I think it was just a truck thing, because my doors sounded exactly the same.

I hopped back up on the porch, tossed Lord Tubbington inside the house, and shut the door before he escaped again.

I tried to brush off as much cat hair as possible, but I figured Santana's friend had seen me holding a cat so he would know I didn't normally have this much fur on my clothes. About halfway to his truck I gave up on getting fur off and looked up to wave at him again.

"Hey," I said. I stopped a few feet from him, not really sure whether we hugged or shook hands. Probably neither. "Santana's taking a show-er." My voice caught. I hadn't taken a shower yet. My face heated up and I took a tiny step back. I was so glad I hadn't hugged him.

He looked odd and uncomfortable. It made my heart jump to my throat. Did he notice? There was no way he noticed.

He reminded me of one of gargoyles that sat on the top of huge castles. He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder and at my truck. "Is Santana here with someone?"

My heart sunk back down to where it was supposed to be. _Good_. He didn't notice. Of course he didn't.

I stood on my tiptoes to peek over his shoulder and at my truck. "No, just me." I glanced back at the house and then back to him. He looked so edgy. Maybe he doesn't get along with one of the girls and thought my truck was their truck.

Dave nodded and some of the tension in his face finally released.

"Seriously." He smiled with just his lips. "Who else is here?"

I looked over his shoulder at my truck again. He didn't believe me. I wasn't sure why he didn't believe me. My truck and Santana's car were the only cars here. What was he talking about?

I didn't answer when he looked back at me. He was making me feel uneasy. All I could think about was when Rachel said to never say we were home alone. But it was daylight right now and Dave was Santana's friend. So it was okay that I had said it was just me and Santana here, right?

"Look." He coated the tone in his voice with a pretend calm. He stepped toward me and squeezed my elbow and then pulled his hand back. "You don't have to hide him." My eyes were still on my elbow, the spot he had touched. Should I have grabbed his hand? No. Yes. "I know Santana sent you out here to get rid of me. But I just want to talk to her." He shoved his hands into his jacket pocket. "I'll be in and out. You won't even know I was here. I've," he paused, "I've tried calling her phone dozens of times. She must have changed her number."

Santana hadn't changed her number since I've known her and she didn't ignore people. She didn't even ignore Rachel most of the time. There was a reason she didn't want to talk to Dave.

I looked back at the house, wishing Santana hadn't decided to take a shower, and wishing I had carried Lord Tubbington over here with me instead of throwing him back inside. And at the very least, I wished I had put on underwear under my sweats. I felt a little naked right now.

"Uh." I looked back at him and tried to remember what he had said. I didn't like the idea of talking to him, knowing Santana had been avoiding him. It felt wrong.

_You don't have to hide him._That's what he had said. Who would we hide? "I'm not really sure what you're talking about."

He laughed and it made me feel like tiny spiders were crawling under my shirt. I didn't want to talk to him anymore. I wanted to go back inside.

"So you know Santana from work?" he asked. The question seemed out of place. Maybe because he was talking like he already knew the answers. It made me even more hesitant to respond. So I didn't. "How long have you known her?"

"From work, yes," I answered quietly. Almost under my breath. All I wanted was to go inside.

He continued talking before I could say anything more. "So she talks to you a lot? She must, if you live with her. That girl has a nasty comment about everything and everyone." He laughed.

He was waiting for me to say something or agree with him. I didn't. That wasn't true. Far from the truth.

"I had to spend a good half hour explaining to her dad why she brought you to his work party, instead of showing up with me. You see, her dad still thinks we're dating," he laughed again. "A lot of people do."

What? Nobody thought that. Not anybody I knew. I looked back at the house again, trying to silently gesture that I wanted to go inside. I couldn't make myself say it and part of it was because I didn't want to accidentally invite him in with me. There wasn't a polite way of saying I wanted to stop talking to him and I definitely didn't want to be rude.

"I have no clue what she's been saying to people," he paused and stared at me. Again he was waiting for me to say something. But this time he really was waiting and wasn't going to interrupt.

"U-uh," I tried to think of what to say. I tucked a few stray bangs behind my ear trying to buy some time. "I'm..." I glanced back at the house, again gesturing that I wanted to go inside. My face was burning, because my brain was trying so hard to think and it was overheating. I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't know what was okay to say and I guess that didn't matter, because I didn't know know what to say in the first place.

"What, are you drunk or something?"

What? My face twisted. I wasn't sure if I had heard him right. Why would he ask that? I wasn't drunk. Did I look drunk?

"Puck mentioned something about you being able to party hard. What was it?" He cocked his head. "You were walking down the road in rainboots, crying, when he had to pick you up one night. You do know that stuff gets to your head. Too much alcohol starts to fuck with you."

I shook my head, almost frantically. And I tried not to move and tried not to make myself look drunk, because I wasn't. "I'm not," I squeaked out. My words scratched my throat.

I was praying that I could leave, that I didn't have to say anything else, that maybe he would somehow decide to leave on his own. I knew none of that was going to happen. The only thing that was happening was he was looking at me like I didn't understand English. And that's how I felt. Lost.

He rolled his eyes and it felt like a soft slap to the face. "Hey," he held his hands up, "there's nothing wrong with playing to your strengths. If I were you, I'd drink too. But seriously," he paused, "who's inside with Santana?"

I wanted to ask him what he meant. I didn't know if that was an insult. I think it was. Yes. And I probably should be upset about it, but I kept jumping back and forth between deciding if it was the truth or an insult. I think it just depended on what he meant.

He was watching me and impatient.

What did he mean by alcohol gets to your head? I was pretty sure alcohol was supposed to do that. "What?" I heard the word come from my mouth, but I didn't remember wanting to say it.

He laughed again, but it was a frustrated laugh. "You can't remember the person who's inside with Santana?" He spaced each word out.

I was frozen. Nobody was inside with Santana and I had said that. He wasn't making any sense.

"Fucking kidding me." His shoulders dropped with even more frustration. "I'm not sure how I can make what I'm saying any clearer. Think quick-er," he snapped his fingers along with each syllable. "Are you really _that _slow?"

_Huh?_

I tried to swallow the spit stuck in my throat. "No." I corrected him. My voice was so rough. I just didn't understand what he was asking.

He didn't hear me.

"I'm going to go back inside," I mumbled. _Finally_. My mouth was so dry, my hands were sweating, the rest of my body felt hot, and I swear something was crawling inside of my stomach.

_Slow?_ Was that why I couldn't figure out what to say right now? My body kept getting hotter and hotter. Nobody has ever said anything about my drinking, but it made sense. A lot of sense. I just had never thought much about it being not good or making me think slow. But it would make sense_._ And if he knew about me drinking, and I didn't even know him that well, then what did that mean?

"Speak up." He cupped his ear. He even leaned towards me.

It made me talk quieter. I wasn't even sure what I mumbled this time.

He leaned in further. "Talk louder," he snapped. I was pretty sure I wouldn't even be able to respond anymore. So I didn't. "I just want to know who is inside, fucking Santana, and what she says to him. It's not that hard to say. Even if you are drunk." He leaned back and nodded toward my truck. "Whose truck is that?"

I looked to the neighbor's houses and quickly back to him. Could anyone else hear this conversation? Where was that red headed lady who was always outside sweeping the street?

"Is it in the way?" I asked. It was a stupid thing to ask. Of course my truck wasn't in the way, but I had to say something. He wouldn't stop staring at me. I had never felt so uncomfortable. But maybe this would get him to forget he wanted to see Santana and distract him.

I didn't want Santana to come outside. I changed my mind. I was glad she was in the shower.

But then he started to march towards the house. His shoulder brushed against mine. It took me a second to realize what he was doing.

_Shit. _"Wait." I tried to run in front of him. My thoughts felt like they were exploding. I could hear my heart beat in my ears and that was the only thing I could hear. I reached for him, putting my hand on his arm.

I had barely touched him, but he reacted like I had slapped him. He clenched his fists and jerked his arm. "Don't, fucking, touch, me." He stopped and spat his words into my face.

I snapped my hand back to my chest. I didn't mean to touch him. I just wanted to get his attention, because he hadn't been listening to me.

He turned from me and stepped up the porch. His hand reached for the doorknob. He was going to go in. He was going to go in and walk up to Santana while she was in the shower and she wouldn't even know he was coming.

But the door was locked. I almost wanted to cry. _Thank God_. I had locked myself out twice already since living here and I guess the third time was the charm.

"People are coming over right now," I blurted, hoping he was able to understand. He hadn't heard other things I had said, so I said it again. "People are coming over."

He might know that it was just me and Santana right now, but maybe it would be different if he knew other people were coming. I wasn't intimidating, but maybe Quinn and Rachel and Mercedes would make him not want to barge into our house.

He stepped off the porch and started back towards his truck. My heart was hammering so hard. Was he leaving? I glanced up the road, fingers crossed that one of the girls would drive up. I didn't know what else to say to him, but someone else would know.

I looked back at him. He got in his truck and slammed the door shut and this time it sounded like a gunshot. Within seconds he was peeling out and speeding down the road.

He left. I just stood there. I couldn't believe it. He was going to come back. He couldn't _just _leave.

I watched down the road for one of the girls. And then I walked out on the grass so I could look all the way down the road. It was empty. I patted my pocket, looking for my phone. I could call someone. Quinn. I could call Quinn. My hand was shaking. Was I shaking like this before? Like a stupid leaf from a tree. I just clenched my fist and started to use the thumb on my other hand to pinch between my knuckles.

I looked down the road one more time. There was nobody so I went back to the porch. I turned and fumbled with the doorknob. Now I did feel drunk. I couldn't even grab the handle. Finally I grabbed it and twisted. It was still locked. _Stupid, _I hissed and pressed my shoulder into the door. It didn't open. I pushed against it harder, knowing it was locked. I wiggled the knob again and then decided to go around.

I felt drunk. It was weird. I didn't like it. One second I was in the front yard and the next I was opening the glass door in the back. I couldn't remember opening and shutting the gate.

As slow as I could, I slid the door shut. I locked it, and then walked through the house to check the front window.

More than anything, I wanted to run upstairs and find Santana. But I could hear the shower running. Not only that, but I kept imagining him following me upstairs. If I walked away from the window, he would see me walk upstairs, and he would know that was where Santana was.

There were curtains on the front windows. The long, tall, kind that start at the ceiling and go all the way to the floor. Rachel picked them out. They were red and matched the cinnamon candles she had set around the living room. I slid and pulled the curtains shut. Then I stepped between them and the window with the curtains draped over my back.

I watched. Every time a car would drive by my stomach would drop and I would have to fight with myself to keep from hiding. But I couldn't hide if he was going to come back. I needed to wait until the other girls got home so I could unlock the door for them.

What if he pulled up when one of the girls did? He would follow them to the front door and follow them inside. I turned, peeked past the curtain, and looked up the stairs. I was trying to see if the bathroom door was open yet. It wasn't, so I turned back to look out the window.

Or what if he parked on a different street and hopped over the fence in our backyard. Would he break a window or find a spare key hidden under a pot that I didn't know about? There was no way I was strong enough to keep him from going upstairs. What if Santana slipped in the shower 'cause he scared her? What if he locked the bathroom door behind him with Santana inside? _Stop_. I didn't need to scare myself. The house was locked._ It was fine, it was fine, it was fine._

For a second I thought a spider web was tickling my cheek. I jumped. Spiders liked to hide behind curtains. But when I rubbed my cheek it was wet. I was crying? Why? I didn't feel like I was crying.

"Britt?" My name slipped up from behind and it made my skin jolt. It hurt how startled I had gotten. "What are you doing?" It was Santana. She was standing right behind me. She even let out a soft, breathy laugh.

Her hand touched my elbow through the curtain. I knew it was _her_ hand, but I pulled away and my knuckles knocked into the glass. My body tensed even more at my reaction. What was I doing? I stepped out from behind the curtain. "Sorry." I rubbed my knuckles and didn't look up. "You startled me."

She wasn't saying anything so I looked up from my hand.

"I didn't mean to." She was smiling. Her hair was wet and up in a ponytail and she smelled like purple shampoo and water. But then her smile fell from her lips. "What's wrong?" She grabbed for my hand, looked at my knuckles, and let go.

And then she flung the curtains all the way open. _No!_ Was she crazy? She started to search the front yard. She was the very last person that should be looking out the window right now. She shouldn't even be near the window. She should be upstairs, in her room, with the door locked.

"Don't," I mumbled and was frantic to shut the curtains. They shouldn't be open. I had to walk around her to close them.

She peeked past the curtains again, using her fingers to make a tiny little eye hole. Even if it sounded silly in my head, I felt safer with the curtain between us and him. It sounded even sillier, because I knew the curtains were see-through.

I just watched her, my heart drumming, figuring he wasn't out there if she wasn't reacting. But waiting was starting to make me too nervous. I pulled her away from the window. I had to tug her arm to get her to take that first step.

"Britt." She was confused, that was obvious. I was confused. But she almost looked angry too. "What is going on?" she demanded. She hardly ever spoke like that to me, but I guess this was different. She had a reason to be a little angry, if angry was the right word. "Why are you crying?" She reached up and pressed her thumb firmly into my cheek to wipe away what must have been another tear. I still didn't feel like I was crying.

First, I couldn't talk that guy. Now I didn't even know when I was crying and how to stop it. What was next?

Santana stepped away from me again and looked back out the window.

"Stop." I tried to sound as demanding as she had, but knew I wasn't even close.

She stopped, looked back at me and still had that same hard look on her face. "Stop what?" She asked after her eyes had seen every single awkward and nervous twitch my body could make. Maybe she was upset, because I wasn't saying what I should be saying. I was standing, doing nothing, saying nothing.

"Please tell me what happened." Her expression looked so close to breaking. She was trying so hard to keep herself together. I didn't know if she wanted to keep from crying or if she wanted to keep from angry-screaming.

I stood. Still. Nothing. I was waiting for her to ask me what happened, but she never did. _Wait. _Yes she had. She was waiting for my answer.

"Brittany, what happened?" she repeated herself. I don't think I liked when other people had to go out of their way to ask me twice.

"U-uh," I cleared my throat, forgetting how dry it was. I took a gulp of my own spit and just stood there. _What do I say, what do I say, what do I say? _I started to play with the string that cinched my sweatpants tight. Her sweatpants. Hers. It was way too hot in here.

"Someone-." I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth. Where was all my spit? "Someone, he-." I looked at the curtain again, wanting to peek past it and make sure he hadn't driven up. "There was someone parked outside, so I talked to him."

Santana's face dropped. Actually, her entire posture dropped and her eyes snapped open. "What? You're okay?" She was speaking quieter, smoother.

I was fine. I nodded.

"Your." I stopped, deciding not to say _your friend. _He wasn't her friend. What was his name? I balled up my fist. I couldn't think about anything else besides him trying to open the front door. "I don't remember his name."

"What?" Santana leaned in a little. I hadn't spoken loud enough.

"This guy, he knew you, but I forgot his name." I talked too loud this time.

She didn't respond and I wasn't sure if she wanted me to continue or if she couldn't understand me.

"Someone was outside." I pointed and then leaned forward to peek past the curtain. It helped when I saw that the curb where his truck had been was still empty. It made me remember what I wanted to say.

"Okay." Santana pinched her lips together, clenched her jaw, and leaned towards the curtain to look where I was looking. She leaned back. "You're sure you're not hurt?" Her words were quick.

I shook my head, no, I was fine.

I felt a tear tickle and so I wiped my face. I didn't know what to say. I was so frustrated and confused and angry with myself. That smile that had been on Santana's face when she walked downstairs and first saw me wasn't going to come back. I knew it wasn't, and it was because of how I was acting. I was scaring her. "I didn't mean to tell him where we lived." I wiped my face again. "I saw him at your dad's work party when you left. He came over and I accidentally told him where we lived." My words sounded really weak now that I was saying so many at once. "But I really did think he was your friend and thought it was okay to tell him things. He seemed nice." And he had been nice. He had asked nice questions while I sat there and while I _chugged_ my entire glass of champagne in less than a couple of minutes. I cringed at that thought.

Santana shook her head. "It's okay." Her words were so sharp and wound up. I think she was worried of how I would react if she reacted the way she wanted to, whether she started screaming or started crying or started doing both at the same time. I didn't want her to do that. I wanted to explain myself so she wouldn't feel like she wanted to scream or cry. It was supposed to be easy to talk to her.

Someone walked into the living room. It was only Mercedes, but it scared me. I even caused Santana to spin around and see what I had jumped at.

"How'd you get inside?" My words had slurred together.

"I came through the garage." She lifted both eyebrows.

"Did you shut it?" I snapped and still slurred.

I was about to run towards the garage, but Mercedes answered first. "It shuts automatically." She grew suspicious as she looked between me and Santana. I wondered if she knew I had been crying and then I wondered if I was still crying. And then I wondered if she was just not saying anything about me crying and me talking like I was drunk, because she was nice. She let out a breath and spoke again. "We're all going out for dinner. Did Quinn text you? You should get ready." She let her eyes hang on me for a moment before she looked to Santana. "You didn't eat already did you?"

Yes. I already had eaten dinner with Santana. We made macaroni. No. Wait. I shook my head.

"You don't want to go?" Mercedes looked a little taken aback. "But it's Breadstix, _and_ Quinn offered to pay." She pinched her lips together and continued to study us, probably still trying to decide if she should ask what was wrong. "Don't be ridiculous. Go change, Brittany. It'll be fun." She walked towards the stairs.

I turned back to the window and pulled the curtain to the side. The curb was still empty.

"Brittany." Mercedes called down the stairs. Her voice echoed through the house. It made both Santana and me jump. "Get your booty up here, girl. They'll sit us in the back if you wear sweatpants and the good waitresses avoid those tables."

I looked back and forth between Mercedes and the window and Santana. He hadn't come back and it'd been awhile. Maybe he wasn't going to come back. He would have come back by now if he wanted to.

"Quinn called in reservations. We're meeting her and Rachel there in less than an hour," Mercedes called down to us.

I shot my full attention back up the stairs. "They're not coming home?" I sounded excited and it didn't fit with what I felt. But I guess I was glad they weren't coming home. That meant I didn't have to open the door.

"They stayed behind to rehearse for the weekend."

I nodded and Mercedes went to her room.

Santana let out a breath she must have been holding. "What did he say to you?" It impressed me how much control she suddenly seemed to have over the look on her face. It didn't quite match how she spoke. She still sounded a little angry.

Everything he said replayed in fast motion. It was like watching a horrible movie that I had desperately tried to put on mute, but then subtitles popped up so I knew _exactly _what was being said.

I had been standing there without answering for too long and I didn't want her to have to repeat herself again. "He kept asking who was inside with you." I didn't want to say the other things he had said. I didn't want to think about what he had said. And I didn't want Santana hearing. It was embarrassing if it was true and weird to bring up if it wasn't. How could she believe I loved her when I didn't even take the time to think about something like me drinking? Something that was apparently obvious and not good.

Santana's expression changed. She looked startled. Why? Did I look startled? I must have. I stopped thinking about what he had said.

"I'm so sorry I didn't say anything earlier, especially after what he did to your truck." I was so grateful she had spoken. But then I realized what she had said.

My body went rigid. That was the same guy? "That's him?" My stomach turned. Of course that was him. I couldn't believe I didn't figure that out myself.

She just pulled her lips into her mouth. "I'll stop this. I promise. He won't ever talk to you again." Now her eyes matched her words.

I nodded, but I didn't want her talking to him either. The problem was he wanted to talk to her, so she shouldn't do that. "He was looking for you, though. You shouldn't talk to him." That as the last thing she should do.

She reached for my hand and grabbed my pinkie with her fist. "I'm going to make a few calls." She let go of my finger and started up the stairs. "I won't talk to him."

My body was still so shaky. That was it? Did she want to know more? I should have said more. I checked again out the window and then went upstairs. I was going to go into her room, but the door was shut. So I went into my room, grabbed clothes, and then went to the shower.

Mercedes came in to fix her makeup. She kept telling me stories about Santana and Quinn. Ones about work, before I had started working at Shuester's. And I tried to listen to them, because I knew they were probably good stories, but I couldn't. I kept hearing Santana's voice through the wall and then I would strain to hear what her words were, but she was talking to fast and in Spanish.

When I finished I went downstairs into the kitchen. Mercedes stayed upstairs in the bathroom and Santana had still been in her room talking. I picked at the dried noodles on the table. I should have let Santana cook. A piece flew off the table after I unstuck it. Maybe I could just put them all on the floor and Lord Tubbington would eat them. Then I wouldn't have to buy him cat food, ever. He could just eat all the food I try to cook.

"Hi." Santana walked up. She stood next to me at the table. She looked completely exhausted.

"Hello." I glanced at her and then back at the noodles that were stuck on the table. Things would have been different if I hadn't ruined the macaroni. We could have eaten it and maybe I would have never seen her friend pull up and he would have driven away.

I didn't like not knowing what was going on, but maybe she already took care of it and now we could just go to dinner. I nodded to myself and then I shrugged. If Santana was fine, inside the house, and around people, then she would be fine. That was all that mattered.

"Quinn said she's paying for us," I said. The corner of my lips curled into a tiny smile. The thought of being able to order expensive things on the menu was kind of cool.

"So I heard." Santana smirked. It comforted me to see her smile like that. "But if I'm sitting through dinner with Berry and I'm not able to order any alcohol because of that ridiculous drinking age law, I might go crazy." She walked over the wine rack and pulled down a bottle. And then she walked to the cupboard and pulled out two wine glasses. "Did you want a glass?" she asked and set the two glasses on the counter, wine bottle in her other hand.

Nope. Her back was to me and that was a good thing, because I wasn't sure if the look on my face would have worried her. The last thing I needed was to _really_ be drunk. "No thanks," I said. My stomach felt so unsettled and the thought of alcohol was starting to make me nauseous.

It didn't even taste good. There was no point in drinking it. It either made me say something to Sam that I shouldn't, or it made me puke on Quinn's lap, or black out, or almost kiss Artie, or eat Rachel's bagels. And those were only the things I remembered. I couldn't even begin to imagine what I didn't remember. I didn't want to imagine.

And I've never had wine, which didn't make any sense, because that was all my mom ever drank. But I wasn't sure if one glass would be too much.

"Are you sure?" She questioned. If Santana didn't believe me about not wanting to drink, then I definitely shouldn't be drinking. She walked over to the table with one glass of wine, leaving mine empty on the counter.

"I just want to remember everything." I shrugged. I was a little surprised at my honesty. I was always honest with her, but still. That felt a little too honest. "And I don't think I'll like wine." I quickly tacked on a real excuse. Something she could understand.

I could feel her eyes on me, which only made me start to pick and play with more of the dried noodles. She leaned in and kissed my shoulder. It was sweet and especially sweet because of how tense and controlled she had been keeping her emotions.

I swallowed. "Did you call your mom?" I asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

Santana leaned back and picked up her wine glass. She took a sip. I didn't remember ever seeing her drunk. Maybe a little tipsy, but not drunk. She could drink and not cause problems. Even Sam could drink a couple of beers at his house when we'd watch a movie and then he'd grab a soda. It wasn't a big deal.

"Yeah." She took another sip. "And I called my aunt."

I nodded, wanting her to continue, but unsure of what to ask. I still had no clue what was going on. "Do I do anything?" That was an easy question.

"I'm so sorry." She apologized again, but she didn't answer the question. "Nothing like that will ever happen again." She seemed confident, so it helped me believe it. "He won't come back. I'm going in tomorrow with my mom to look into restraining orders."

That was good. Perfect. "Should I go?"

Santana shook her head again. "You work." She set her glass on the table. "And we're just looking into it. But my mom thinks it'd be easier for you to file one than for me to, because of what happened with your truck."

So shouldn't I go? I think she would tell me if I needed to go. "Okay," I said. That was fine. More than fine. I didn't want to go in and talk about him.

Mercedes walked into the kitchen. "Everything's okay?" She asked and headed for the mail on the counter.

Santana nodded. "Karofsky stopped by." She stared at her wine glass after she said that. "He talked to Britt."

Mercedes knew him? What? How? Wait, duh, of course she knew him. She had known Santana before I did. Everyone has known Santana longer than I have.

"Oh…" Mercedes looked at me like she finally understood everything. For a second it almost looked like she knew what that guy had said to me. Karofsky, that was his name? Or Dave?

Santana took another sip of her wine. "I'll have it all sorted out tomorrow," Santana nodded definitively.

"Is his last name Karofsky?" I asked Santana. She nodded.

_Oh. _

"We should mention this to the other girls," Mercedes said. "If he's coming to the house and talking to Brittany," she looked at me, "then it needs to be sorted and stopped."

Santana nodded again. "I know." She responded. She was irritated.

Santana brought her glass to the sink and Mercedes pulled out her keys. I was going to offer to drive, so we didn't leave my truck here, but then I realized something worse might happen if we brought my truck with us and he followed. Would he be mad if he knew me and Santana were dating? Didn't Santana say he liked boys? I should have asked her, but we were already leaving to dinner.

We got in the car. It would be okay. Santana was okay and everyone else was okay and even I was okay. So it would be okay. I watched out the window and listened to Mercedes talk about work.


	9. Elephants in the Room

**Chapter 9 : Elephants in the Room**

Before the three of us got out of the car, Santana asked if we could wait to mention Karofsky. She said she didn't want to ruin dinner. I was fine with whatever she wanted to do and a little grateful. I didn't want to explain what had happened either. If I hadn't been able to explain it to Santana, then I wouldn't even be able to begin explaining it to the rest of the girls.

"Saying something right now would make it worse. I don't need everyone shoving their opinions down my throat." Santana shut her car door. Slammed it. She had sat in the back. I think it was so she could look through her phone without so obviously ignoring Mercedes and so she could have space to think.

"I don't know about that, Santana," Mercedes responded. We were walking through the parking lot. "It could have been any one of us that talked to him or might end up talking to him. Maybe it's best if we get it all figured out now. The girls will have your back."

That was true, they would. And what if he goes to work and talks to Tina and she didn't know Santana didn't like him? Tina was coming, right? I hadn't had a chance to think about inviting her or asking to make sure one of the girls had invited her to dinner. I spun around and looked through the parking lot, but there were way too many cars to even begin finding hers.

"But it wasn't _just anyone_," Santana hissed, lowering her voice.

I looked from scanning the cars back to Santana. The way her voice had snapped startled me. She sounded frustrated and I knew part of it had to do with me. I wasn't making it any easier for her. She would never admit that, but it was obvious. So if she asked me what Karofsky said again, I would tell her everything. That was the least I could do.

"I understand," Mercedes pulled open the door for us, "but what if he's sitting outside the house when we get back?"

Santana didn't respond. Maybe I should say something. So I did. "I don't think he will be. When I told him other people were coming, he left." The more I thought about it, the more Karofsky reminded me of me. Not in the scary way, but in the overreacting way. "He got angry and then he realized what he was doing and so he left." I nodded to myself, forcing my brain to make that make sense. It did, but it felt a little too easy. Easy was good though.

"There's probably a little more to it than that." Mercedes followed us in.

I shrugged. "He left when I said other people were coming. He wouldn't wait for us _all _to come back to the house."

Santana nodded and for the first time in a long time, something I had said comforted her. It was frustrating that I hadn't been able to do that earlier. She didn't need to take care of me in a situation where someone was trying to be mean to her. I cringed and then promised myself I would never react like I had again. I had a horrible habit of reacting without thinking.

"We have reservations," Mercedes said to the hostess. It was the same hostess that had been here when I was waiting for Quinn to show up for the lunch she had missed.

I turned to Santana. I needed to apologize and I needed to let her know that I wasn't a burden. "He said something that I didn't understand," I whispered. And my heart started to softly speed up. It reminded me of how a horse starts running.

Santana was about to ask who, but she realized who.

"I can tell you what he said if you want, if it will help." I spoke as quickly as I could. "He was scary. That's why I couldn't explain to him that nobody was inside with you... I _think_." I added that last part, because I wasn't entirely sure that was the only reason why I had acted so weird.

She didn't nod, just ran her eyes over me. "We'll figure it out."

It relieved me to hear her say _we'll _instead of _I'll_. I smiled.

The hostess grabbed menus and walked us to a big table where Tina was already sitting down. I was so glad she was here. So I sat by her. Santana sat straight across from me with Mercedes.

"How was work?" I asked Tina and scooted my chair in.

"Slow." Tina matched the smile I knew I had on my face. It was a combination of the smile I had given Santana moments before and an excited smile, because Tina was here. "I wasn't sure I would be able to make it to dinner, but Holly said she could cover the end of my shift."

"I wished you lived with us," I pouted. I really did wish she lived with us, but I understood why she lived with Mike, because I lived with Santana.

"It would be fun." She looked at Santana and Mercedes and then looked back to me. "How is it living there? Weird? Does it feel like home?"

"Well-." Mercedes took a breath in. "Living with four other girls is interesting to say the least." She took another breath and glanced between me and Santana. "But I love it."

"Me too," I quickly agreed.

What had happened with Karofsky flashed through my mind. I wasn't sure why. But it was hard to not think about it. It twisted nerves in my chest and it was starting to make me nauseous. I stopped thinking about it and I started reading the appetizers, over and over, even if there were only five of them.

"Hello ladies," Rachel announced. She walked up to the table and then took a seat in the empty chair on the other side of Santana. From the look on Santana's face, she hadn't expected Rachel to sit by her.

"I'm starving. Oh!" Rachel looked up from setting her purse underneath the table. "This Saturday you'll be singing first, Tina, and I'll be singing in the eleven-o'clock spot." She adjusted her seat. "I still can't believe Will didn't let us choose our own individual theme and forced us to draw from a hat. It's already bad enough he approved of _Seven Deadly Sins Saturday_." Rachel didn't like the name so she rolled her eyes.

"Oh please," Mercedes interrupted. "You got the best one. At least you're not stuck trying to find a costume for Greed."

Rachel tisked, but didn't answer Mercedes. "Are you sure you don't want to trade, Tina? Your costume isn't even right for the song you're singing."

Rachel wanted to sing an angry song to Finn and Tina had drawn _Wrath _from the hat. I still wasn't sure why she was upset with him. I hadn't even known that was the reason she has been angry until yesterday.

"Your song doesn't have to fit your costume," Tina responded. "Santana's song doesn't have anything to do with her outfit."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Which is ridiculous and is why she is singing last. It defeats the entire purpose of having themes."

Santana shot Rachel a dirty look.

Quinn walked up to the table before Rachel could keep going. Rachel always worried about themed nights. She didn't need to worry at all. They were for fun, not for worry.

"There you are, Quinn," Santana greeted. "Please, sit here. I saved you a seat." She motioned towards Rachel's chair.

Quinn just sat by me. She hung her purse on the back of the chair and then leaned in and looked at my menu while the other girls continued to talk about outfits. "What are you getting?" She sounded a little out of breath and smelled like cinnamon whisky. I bet we all smelled like one huge bar when we got off work. I bet our house smelled like a bar too.

And I bet she was out of breath because she was wearing heels. Whenever I wore heels it felt like I was constantly climbing up a mountain.

What was I getting? I had no clue what I was getting. I hadn't even been really _reading_ the menu earlier, just looking at it.

"This is good." She pointed to something. _Fettuccini Alfredo w/ Steak and Asparagus._There wasn't even a price. She pointed to a few more things, half of them I couldn't pronounce. "I'm really sorry about last time," she whispered but continued to look at the menu. "I shouldn't have let you sit here for that long."

"It's okay." I peeked over at her. She was looking at the menu and not at me. Quinn had found out she was pregnant right before she had not show up. I think that was a bit more important than making it to lunch with a friend.

"It won't happen again." She glanced at me and then back at my menu. "I'll make it up to you and take you out for lunch for your birthday."

My birthday! Not that I had forgot about it, but she just reminded me that my birthday was getting close.

"You should get this." Her tone switched from soft and only for me to hear, to normal. She pointed to something near the bottom. "It's my favorite. Oh! No," she said as she pointed at something else. "I take that back, this is my favorite."

"How much is everything?" I still didn't see any prices.

Quinn took my menu, but still held it in between us. "It's free, Honey. I'm paying."

I ran my eyes over the menu one last time. "Spaghetti," I responded. I had been waiting for her to point at it and say she liked it, so I could say I would get it.

"Brittany," Rachel sighed from across the table. "I can make spaghetti any night at the house. Why would you order that?" She shook her head and then looked back at her own menu.

The rest of the girls peeked up from their menus.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Gross. Don't make food."

Rachel didn't even care about Santana's comment. She kept her attention on me. "I was trying to imply that maybe you could order something different, branch out a little. If I didn't know any better I would think you lived in a tiny plastic bubble."

I knew Rachel wasn't in her best mood. Whenever she was mad at something, she acted mad at everything. When I looked up at her to respond she was looking at her menu. My face started to heat up. I didn't understand why she would be annoyed with me and I didn't understand why I suddenly cared about her being sassy to me. Maybe, because for the second time in a row, I couldn't tell if someone was insulting me or telling the truth.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

The girls were surprised I had said anything. I was surprised. But Rachel looked the most surprised. She shook her head. "Forget it."

No. I didn't want to forget it. If I didn't understand something, I wanted to understand it. "No. Can you please explain?" I tried as hard as I could to talk normal, but I knew my words had come out too fast.

She _still_ didn't look up from her menu. "I meant exactly what I said. Don't take it personally, but..." she glanced at me and then back to her menu, "sometimes it feels like you're in your own little world and it's frustrating."

"Rachel," Mercedes warned.

She didn't need to warn Rachel.

"What?" Rachel finally set her menu down. She gestured towards me. "Brittany asked me a question."

I nodded. I did ask her a question.

Rachel looked right at me. "Like I said, don't take it personally, but you've always been ... predictable... It is literally as if you're in a plastic bubble and can't see anything outside of the bubble. You always order the same food. You leave your truck unlocked and just assume people won't steal it. At work you constantly allow male customers to cross a line that shouldn't be crossed, and at the housewarming party you didn't even bother to respect the fact that I asked you to use a coaster. You never take anything seriously. Everything you see and care about is what's inside your safe bubble."

I shouldn't have asked Rachel this in front of everyone. I shifted and couldn't find a comfortable way to sit. Some of that stuff could be true, but I did take things seriously. Lots of things. "That's not true."

"It is true." She looked even more annoyed. "At work you mix drinks without measuring anything _and _you drink while you're working. You do know that Will could lose his business license if you're caught drinking on the job? You could lose _your _job. Your job is something that should be taken very seriously, especially now that you're paying rent."

I hadn't ever thought about it that way. But everyone does that. "Everyone has drinks at work." I glanced around the table, skipping over Santana, to make sure I wasn't just imagining that. They looked uneasy. I didn't want to make dinner uneasy.

"Other people drinking at work is not the point," Rachel said.

"So the point is just about drinking?" I said and immediately wished I hadn't brought that up again, especially in front of Santana. I was digging myself into a big hole and I didn't want to make Santana think she had to pull me out. Drinking wasn't a big deal and it was hard to pull people out of imaginary holes when they imagined to get stuck. "What?" I said, because Rachel was staring at me.

"The point is, it's sometimes hard to communicate with you because of your plastic bubble." Rachel was going to continue, but was interrupted.

"Where is the waitress?" Santana glared around the restaurant in search of our waitress. "She hasn't even brought us breadsticks. Rachel, go get our bread sticks," she demanded. "Don't come back unless you have a full basket. You can ask Brittany to borrow her _plastic bubble,_" she used her fingers to quote the last words, "to carry a few extra."

Rachel looked a bit surprised. I think she had forgotten Santana was here.

Santana said something in Spanish.

The conversation was dropped and then everyone pretended to look at their menu, but really just waited for Santana or Rachel to say something else. I was glad they weren't looking at me.

I chanced a peek at Santana and she looked unsettled. I wanted to reach for her hand, but I figured she didn't want the girls looking at her any more than I wanted them looking at me. Things were more overwhelming when people knew you were upset or uncomfortable. But, of course, Santana doesn't get overwhelmed at things like I do. Maybe I could reach for her hand.

I never did. The waitress walked over and Santana said something about _finally _getting our water and told her we had been ready to order for quite some time.

I ordered spaghetti. Everyone forgot about what Rachel had said and went back to talking about work, except Santana. She was really quiet. Sometimes I would start to say something to her, but chicken out. I knew she was quiet for a reason. I knew she didn't want people talking to her and I knew she didn't want to be here anymore.

Halfway through my spaghetti I got up to use the bathroom. Quinn followed.

"How are you and Santana?" Quinn asked from her stall. "She seems a little off."

Quinn had noticed Santana was quiet too. I wasn't surprised. Only surprised she was asking about me and Santana, because of our last conversation in her Easter-baby room. "She's tired," I answered.

"Santana always gets the last word in with Rachel." Quinn stopped for a little and I thought she was going to leave it at that. "Something's wrong."

I didn't answer until I was out of my stall. "I think she's tired." I started washing my hands. I knew why Santana was upset and I knew she wanted to wait to tell everyone.

Quinn walked out of her stall and turned on the water next to me. She had perked up. "I have an idea. How about we go to that theme park, Cedar Point. I overheard a couple customers at work talking about it and it sounds like a blast. They have a swim park and a dinosaur exhibit. I've never been, but I figured it would be a perfect way to spend a day. For your birthday," she added. "I'll buy you corndogs until you puke."

I had wanted to go there since I had found out about it! "My mom wanted to take me there for my birthday when I was little." I smiled at Quinn. I had always put it on my birthday list. One year my mom even bought tickets, but she got sick the day we were supposed to go. "That'd be fun!" My face started to cramp from smiling.

"Then we'll do it." She shut the water off and went to get a paper towel.

I walked to get a paper towel too. "Thanks for dinner," I told her.

She opened the bathroom door for me. "Anytime you want dinner, I'll take you out."

I smiled even bigger. "Okay."

When we got back to the table, Quinn started to tell me about the dinosaur exhibit at Cedar Point. The girls calmed their conversations and joined in on ours. I kept glancing at Santana, waiting for her to say something. She just smiled and nodded, but never said anything other than _cool _or _sounds_ _fun. _

And then dinner was over and we headed home. Santana took the back seat again. The longer she was quiet, the more anxious I got. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, but instead I waited and I kept peeking at her in the window's reflection.

Karofsky wasn't parked outside when we pulled up, but Santana still didn't say anything. That was what I thought she would be worried about. Him. But maybe it wasn't. We went inside the house and I plopped on the couch. I didn't know what else to do. So I sat.

**xxXXxx**

Santana and Mercedes were in the kitchen drinking a glass of wine. I was laying on the couch with my legs over the armrest.

I still hadn't decided what to make of Rachel's plastic bubble comment. Was it a bad thing if it was true? I didn't think it was true. Why would it be hard to talk to me?

"Because I can't talk," I mumbled to myself and started to bite my nails. "That's why she didn't talk at dinner." Because Santana knew I had a hard time explaining myself. I bet she had wanted to talk about Karofsky at dinner. I was stupid and she was doing things she didn't need to do, because I was being stupid.

"Great," I mumbled again.

Or maybe she really hadn't wanted to talk about him and it was coincidence that I hadn't wanted to either. I didn't know. I couldn't decide.

"Where's my cat?" I pulled my nails from my lips and turned my head to search the living room. Lord Tubbington wasn't here. I remembered shutting him in my room.

Did Santana think I was in a plastic bubble? She had said that she loved me, and it wasn't because it had been raining. I was positive that was just one giant metaphor for losing my mom. So that meant she loved me not because she felt bad for me. So I wasn't in a plastic bubble, because Santana knew what I felt and meant and said.

"Looooorrrdd tubbiest-cat-in-the-world," I called. I wanted him to not be stuck in my room and come downstairs.

I wasn't going to sit and overthink things. I had promised myself I wouldn't overreact and if that meant talking to Santana, then that was what I was going to do.

I sat up and swung my legs off of the armrest, waited for a second so I didn't get dizzy when I stood up, and then I jumped up from the couch.

Santana was sitting at the table. By herself. Where was Mercedes? I looked around the kitchen and by the time I looked back at Santana, she had noticed I was here. Her wine glass was empty.

"Did you drink all of the wine?" I looked for the bottle.

She shook her head. "No." She didn't say anything else.

The feeling I got when she said _no_ wasn't a good feeling. Something was wrong.

I looked for the wine again. It was the only thing I could think to do. I was a little taken off guard by Mercedes not being in here. Not that I didn't want to be alone with Santana, because I loved being around Santana. I just felt... unprepared.

I took a breath. "Are you okay?" I asked and walked toward the table. Maybe something scary happened. He probably called her. "Did Dave call you? He didn't say anything, did he? Did he come back?" I looked at the back door.

"No, no." Santana let out a smile. It wasn't a real smile, it was just a way for her to calm me down. Again she was doing something for me. "Did you want a glass of wine?"

I didn't _not _want a glass of wine, so I shrugged. "I don't care."

Her lips tucked into her mouth and she gave one nod. I had hurt her feelings.

"Should I care?" I asked. My nerves were making me ask. The way she had reacted made it feel like I should care. Maybe I should care. Yes. Probably. Of course I should care. I had said something confusing to her about drinking earlier and now I was being more confusing.

She shrugged.

Now what?

It was the first time I had felt like something was missing with us. Or maybe it was the first time I had noticed. It wasn't something bad or that couldn't be replaced, it was just missing.

It reminded me of conversations I had had with my mom. The ones where I wouldn't know what was happening or what she meant, and so I wouldn't say anything. I would pretend and wait for it to be okay, but misunderstandings sometimes ended badly.

I wasn't going to pretend with Santana. Thinking of doing that was scary.

"I'm not sure if being in a plastic bubble is a bad thing, and Karofsky thought I was drunk, and I'm worried that I'm going to make our relationship and our conversations difficult, because right now feels like talking to my mom." I said everything. "But you're not my mom. Obviously. I just don't know what to say right now." I paused and then spoke softer. "I was lying out on the couch and I kept wanting to come in here and I never did."

Santana pulled out the chair next to her.

I sat in it. It was better now that I was sitting down. Before it had felt like I had been standing on a cloud I was going to fall through.

"So we should talk," Santana said.

"Okay." I faced her. My knees bumped into her thigh.

She rested her elbow on the table. I think she felt better. She looked more relaxed. "What were you overthinking?" she asked.

I shrugged and instantly regretted doing it. It wasn't that I had nothing to say. Sometimes I shrugged out of habit.

Her eyes clouded. She spoke before I could take back my shrug. "I don't want you involved with Karofsky," she said. It was very _decided _in the way she said it.

I waited for more. But I think she needed me to ask for more. "You don't want me involved at all? What about the restraining order?"

She sat up, facing me, with the corner of the table in between us. "I'm not sure yet." Her entire body language changed. She looked like she was sitting on the edge of a cliff again. "I'm sorry for not bringing him up sooner. I-. It's easier-," she pinched her lips together. "I liked what you said before, about our relationship, about it being about _just us_. I never wanted him anywhere near you and so I started by not telling you who he was."

"Our relationship is about us," I reassured her.

"I know... it is." She ran her tongue over her lips. "As much as I want to be in a plastic bubble and hide away with you, we can't do that."

Was that why she was quiet at dinner? Because of Rachel's bubble comment? I nodded. It was a slow nod. I wasn't sure what she meant by that. If it was good or bad. We can't do what? Be _us? _

I spoke quickly. "I really didn't mean to overreact earlier, Santana. I'm fine now and if you want I can help with the restraining order. If you're worried about me getting hurt, you don't have to be. I like you and I don't care what he says."

"I care, Britt," Santana snapped. Not a mean snap, just intense. "I never, ever, want him to say another word to you." She took a breath and then it was really quiet. "Sometimes it scares me." She paused again. "I see you have these conversations with Quinn. I see how easy it is for you to talk with her and talk with the other girls. I'm not saying it's hard for us to talk, but it's been different lately. I don't even know why it's different." Her words sounded cold. I couldn't decide if it was because of what they could be implying or if it was me being paranoid.

"Maybe it's different because we're dating now," I said.

She flinched. My stomach sunk. Did she not want to date? Or she probably flinched because she thought I didn't want to date her. I couldn't decide. "I don't mean that in a bad way," I corrected myself. My fists clenched and I fought the urge to press the heels of my palms into my forehead. "This is what happens," I said it aloud, though it was only meant for me. _This is what happens when I try to say important things. Nothing makes sense. _

"What happens?" Santana whispered.

"I didn't mean that us dating is why we have difficult conversations. Big feelings come with big conversations. I have big feelings for you. I just suck at talking."

"You don't suck at talking," Santana said.

"But I do. I couldn't talk earlier, I can't explain myself now. I never say things that make sense. People don't take me seriously. You heard what Rachel said at dinner. Maybe she was right."

"We're talking now. Rachel sucks at talking."

Now I was making this huge unnecessary deal out of how much I thought I sucked at talking. I kept making huge deals. Obviously I didn't completely suck at talking to her. Only recently. "Just recently I suck at talking."

"We're talking now," Santana repeated. "This is just the first time we've had a real conversation in so long." That was true.

"Exactly." I wanted to reach for her hand, but I didn't know if that would distract me or if it would distract her. "We should have real conversations." She was right. This _was _the first time we were having a real conversation.

"The conversation last night was real though." I said as soon as I thought it. I didn't want to make her think the wrong thing. "I really do love you." She glanced up at me and then dropped her eyes back to her hands. Now I knew why she had been looking at her hands and it was because her eyes were teary. It was weird to see. I had cried so much lately and she hadn't at all. I wished we could switch bodies so she could be me and cry when she felt like it and I cry be her and be able to not cry.

She wasn't talking, so I kept going. "It was stupid for me to overreact about what that guy said about being drunk." I could feel my cheeks starting to flush. Not only was it embarrassing to think about what was said, but it was more embarrassing to think how I had reacted to it. "Sometimes I get stage fright when I don't know what to say. It's probably genetic. My mom was really worried about talking to other people too." I started to trace my nails over the wood grain in the table.

My mom had always made big deals about conversations with people. One time she told me a story about being at the grocery store when I was really little. I remembered the story word for word, because my mom would repeat stories, which was okay. Me and her had been in the cereal aisle and she said I was picking up different cereal boxes and bringing them to show her. She never said why she was at the store and not my dad. I had always wanted to ask, but I didn't know if it was okay to ask. Sometimes my mom would get upset about things she didn't want to share.

But then this woman said something to my mom about me being a handful. My mom said she told the woman I was a good kid. And that wouldn't sound like a big deal to anyone else, but my mom didn't really go out much. Each time she told that story she would jump back and forth between being unsure if she said the right thing, and proud that she had stood up for herself.

I realized me and Santana had been sitting for the quietest, longest, minutes. I considered telling Santana the story. Instead I continued with what I started to say earlier. "I just don't want to say something that doesn't need to be said."

Santana grabbed my hand. It took me a bit by surprise. And her eyes were still a little cloudy. "What'd you say to Karofsky?" She had an eyebrow cocked. "Before he left, you said you told him people were coming, right?"

The image of him trying to open the front door flashed through my mind before any words did. "Uh, yeah."

"Okay." Santana pulled her hand away from mine and held it up like she was emphasizing a point. "Exactly. I probably would have done something stupid and punched him." She had one of her soft smiles. It made me laugh, but mostly because I was relieved she was smiling.

Now I was overly anxious to spill everything. I wanted her to know everything.

"I walked outside when you were in the shower," I began. "He was nice at first, but he started saying things about you, asking about you, and he thought someone was inside the house with you." Santana nodded for me to continue. "He thought I was drunk and he kept saying things about it..." I trailed off. "I didn't even think to tell him that my truck was _my_ truck. I just said nothing."

Santana nodded. "Thank God you didn't say it was your truck." She shifted in her seat and scooted a little closer to me so her knees were touching mine. "He kept saying things?"

"Mean things," I added.

"Like?"

"I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me," I blurted. That thought had been floating in the back of my mind since I walked in the kitchen. Santana didn't need to take care of me and I didn't want our relationship to be that. "I hate that since my mom died it feels like you're always taking care of me." Maybe that was why I had a hard time talking. I didn't want the attention. I had had enough attention. "And it's my fault, because I don't know how to make it so I don't think that. I know you said you weren't with me and you didn't love me just because it was _raining." _I was hoping her metaphor for rain was the same as mine. "So obviously, I know you're not taking care of me." I stopped. I was losing my thoughts. I didn't know why I was saying what I was saying.

"You lost your mom," Santana said. The look o her face meant she didn't agree with what I had said.

I blurted out more. "I don't want you to take care of me."

She scooted back in her seat so our knees weren't touching anymore.

What was I doing? No. I didn't want her to scoot away. I just didn't want her to have to work to be with me. "I don't want to say the wrong thing." I felt like I was horrible train wreck and Santana wasn't someone I wanted to train wreck into. "Y-you," I stuttered and I knew it was because I had so many thoughts racing around. "I don't want you to have to take care of me," I repeated. It was the only thing I figured I could say a full sentence of and that made sense.

It looked like a million thoughts were running through her mind too, but she wasn't saying any of them.

She licked her lips and then sat up straight. It was powerful. Maybe I just felt really out of control though and it only felt like that. "I'm not always good with people. I don't know how relationships work, but I will help you if you need it. Relationships have more than one person for a reason."

I didn't have a response. But I liked what she was saying.

"I don't want him saying anything to you, or hurting you, or-," She broke off and shifted in her seat. She was running her nails over her knuckles. She was nervous. "No." That was all she said.

_No_ what? I looked from her and around the kitchen. It was so quiet. Everyone else had to be asleep. I looked back to her and she still wasn't looking up. "Why no?" I asked.

"Because," she spoke so soft and nothing like how she had confidently been speaking. If I was a train wreck then she was definitely a roller coaster. "I can't figure out how we work." Her lips twitched so she held her breath and waited to continue. "I love my family so much and you saw how they were." She looked up and must have forgot she was trying to avoid eye contact and looked back down.

"I want you and I want my family," she spoke to the table. "I already ruined things with my dad. Family is all I have. You and family."

There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, especially about her dad.

"My mom won't even tell her family I was the one who caught my dad cheating. She was embarrassed." Santana started to pick at her nails. I was glad she wasn't looking at me, because when she said that it made my face fall. That was sad. "So," Santana cleared her throat, "Karofksy knows my dad and I don't want him saying anything about you and me."

That was easy enough to understand. If anyone would understand, it would be me. My mom hadn't reacted so good about my relationship with Santana, so I knew other parents might not.

I stood up from my chair and I leaned down to her. Right now I only had one answer for her and even though it felt a little obvious, I would still tell her. I put both hands on her cheeks and I kissed her. She looked like she needed a kiss and I remembered that her kisses had distracted me before when I had been upset. "You can have both me and your family."

A sob cracked up her throat. It was just one. I pecked her lips again. She was holding her breath and trying so hard to keep her emotions pushed down. She cared so much about this, maybe about me, about everything. She was trying so hard to stop crying. It was sweet and it was sad.

I could feel her tears run over my fingers. "Did you know that elephants are one of the only animals that cry 'cause they're sad?" I said it, because I could see how how desperate she was to stop crying.

Another noise cracked through her throat, but this time it was a laugh.

I stood up.

She wiped her face. "I'm a crying elephant?" She laughed again and it was surprisingly cute.

I picked up her empty wine glass from the table and started to walk it toward the sink. "Elephants do have the biggest hearts out of all the animals." I turned on the water to rinse out the glass. I didn't know if that was true, but they had to have big hearts since they were so huge. "Plus, peanuts are salty. Where else are they going to get their water?"

She laughed again.

I knew we still had stuff we had to talk about, but this was a start.

"Soon enough you're going to run out of things like that to say," she said. _Doubt it._ "Speaking of, I have birthday plans for you."

I slammed the water off and spun to face her. "Plans?" I knew I had the biggest smile on my face.

"After work on Saturday. We both have Sunday off and even though Sunday isn't your real birthday, we can pretend it is." She stood up, pushed her chair in, and grabbed my hand. We started walking out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. She stopped mid step and squeezed my hand so I would stop with her. "You weren't overreacting," she said it like she just remembered how important it was.

It took me a second to realize she was talking about. I nodded, but I wanted to go upstairs and fall asleep with her. I wanted to fall asleep happy and I didn't know if talking about confusing things would end happy or end confusing.

I smiled and she squeezed my hand again and then started leading me upstairs. Not like before. We were going up the stairs for a different reason.

We both got ready for bed in the bathroom and then this time we went to my room. I wanted to sleep in my new bed. We had to go in there anyways to feed Lord Tubbington. Santana crawled into my bed while I grabbed the food bowl from the bathroom and filled it with cat food I had hidden in my closet. If I didn't hide it, Lord Tubbington would eat himself to death.

When I got back to the room, Santana flipped the sheets open for me and I snuggled up next to her. I grabbed her hand and then when I turned to face her she started to kiss me. They were slow kisses that made me forget I was lying in a bed. She was really good at kissing and touching. Beautiful people gave beautiful kisses.

The sheets were warm, the room was warm, and her tongue was warm.

I had never kissed someone like this before falling asleep. These were _real _goodnight kisses. That was all we did. She had her hand on my hip and kissed me until my lips started to feel lazy and I fell asleep.


	10. Pride & Envy

**Chapter 10: Pride & Envy**

"Brittany!" Rachel yelled through the bathroom door. "What are you doing? You've been in there for twenty minutes."

There was no way I had been in the bathroom for that long. "Just a second," I called back.

Rachel opened the door. My sweatpants were off and balled up on top of the sink and I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with my foot up on the counter. It was at least two weeks since I had been bit and my cat bite was still tender. It was hard to clean. It hurt. And I was trying to put the bandage on, but it kept sticking on the wrong spot. If I didn't do it right then my shoe wouldn't fit.

"Let me see that." Rachel set her bathroom caddy on the counter and grabbed the bandage from me. "You cleaned it, right?"

I nodded.

"That cat is such a fuss," Rachel began. She didn't like Lord Tubbington. "Wouldn't it be much easier to leave him at your dad's house with your sister?"

No. "Hailey isn't home enough."

"Still." Rachel grabbed my ankle and perched my foot against her thigh. She unpeeled the half stuck bandage and started to poke around the bite with her thumb.

"Ow!" I jerked my foot off of her thigh. "I can do it." I didn't want her poking it.

"I need to see if it's infected." She sounded annoyed.

I have had my fair share of annoyed-at-me-Rachel for the past few days. "It's okay." I reached for the bandage, but she held it away from me.

"Brittany." She patted her thigh. "I'm serious. Put your foot back up."

"So am I." I stared at the door. I was already grumpy from my foot still being sore. "I'll do it myself in my room." I stood up and held my hand out for the bandages.

"Sit down," Rachel demanded. "Please." Then she asked nicely.

It was easier just to sit down than to argue with her. If I walked out now then she would spend the rest of the day being mad at me. Like the time I told Rachel I was going to hang out with Quinn after work instead of heading over to her house right away. Rachel didn't talk to me the entire night when I had shown up. We just watched movies and didn't order pizza like we had planned, because _I had shown up too late to order pizza._

I sat back down on the edge of the tub and Rachel squatted by my foot. She gently moved her fingers around the bite this time. "It doesn't look infected." I watched her as she stuck one side of the wrap to the bottom of my foot. She wrapped it slowly, careful to stick it exactly like she wanted it to be. I almost made a comment about this being the cat-wound version of Cinderella, but I kept quiet.

"I want to apologize for what happened the other night at dinner," she said.

What? Rachel never apologized.

"You don't need to," I responded. And she didn't need to. I was the one who had insisted she say those things and it wasn't like she was wrong. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe I really was in a little bubble. Especially after what Santana had said about thinking our relationship was in a bubble. Sure, Santana and me were the most important part of our relationship, but obviously it affected other people.

"No, I do. It was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said those things in front of everyone. You're my best friend and I don't want you to think I don't respect you. Work is stressful, Finn is driving me insane, and living with four girls who can't stand to spend more than two seconds speaking with me isn't my idea of home sweet home."

Best friend? Really? Nobody had ever said I was their best friend before.

"I just-." She finished with the bandage and smoothed it with her fingers. "I'm sorry and I won't do something like that again."

Rachel wasn't someone who said things that were _really _bothering her even if she made those things blatantly obvious. Like Finn. I knew she was dying for someone to really talk to her about it, but at the same time she would never start that conversation.

"Why is Finn driving you insane?" I asked, because now I really did feel like her best friend.

She took in a breath and let it out. "I overheard him at the housewarming party talking about Quinn. They used to date and he didn't disagree when Sam said she was the hottest girl at the party. Later that night I saw Finn talking, _flirting_, with Quinn. So I told him that it'd be best if he didn't stay the night. Now he keeps leaving me voicemails saying whether or not he works the next day."

"So he wants to hang out!" I encouraged her. "And maybe he did disagree later. If Sam said that Quinn was the prettiest I would agree and I would also think that all of the girls were pretty." That was true. Though when it really came down to it, I thought Santana was one of the prettiest people in the world, hands down. "Maybe he thinks you're the most beautiful instead."

Rachel let out a shy laugh. "I don't know." She stood up. "I do need to shower though or I'll be late for work."

I took that as my cue to get up. I headed to the bathroom door and before I shut it I poked my head in. "The girls like that you're here, I promise. Even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes. They wouldn't have moved in with you if they didn't want to."

Rachel smiled and nodded and I shut the door.

"Your pants!" She yelled from inside the bathroom.

I opened the door, snatched my sweatpants from the sink and put them on. And then I hopped down the steps two at a time, gripping onto the railing extra tight when I reached the last few steps. The last time I had jumped down the stairs, I slipped and fell on my butt and Mercedes had come running out of the kitchen scared and then angry.

But I made it safely this time and headed for the couch. I sat down and not even a moment later Quinn walked out of her room. She looked like she was still sleeping. Her hair was everywhere. This had to be the first time I had woken up before her.

"Good morning!" I chirped at her, and when she winced, I figured that after work last night she must have had a few drinks. Either that or she was sick.

"What day is it?" she croaked and wavered over to the couch. She was definitely hung over, not sick.

"Saturday," I told her. She sat next to me and shoved her hands into her face. "Be right back," I said and hopped up from the couch.

Water and medicine was the only way Quinn wasn't going to feel completely awful for the rest of the day, so I made my way into the kitchen.

Santana was cooking an egg and the kitchen smelled like breakfast. When I walked behind her I pinched her butt and then darted away before she could do anything.

"Brittany!" She had tried to stifle her squeal halfway through my name. Then she pointed the spatula at me. "Don't." She made a _serious face_ and turned back to her frying pan. "Oh!" She turned back around when I was pulling medicine out of the cabinet. "My mom invited us over for lunch and- are you sick?" She looked at the bottle I had just pulled out of the cabinet.

"It's for Quinn," I said and grabbed a glass for water. "And fun!" I responded to the lunch thing. That would be fun and I liked the idea of her mom inviting _us._

I spent most of my time before lunch doing nothing and sitting on the couch with Quinn. Santana joined us with her egg and then Quinn kept making comments about how it smelled like vomit. Then Santana and I got ready and we left.

When Santana pulled up into her mom's driveway the curtain from the front window flung open. But they shut so quickly that if I hadn't known any better I would have thought it was the wind. Seconds later, as expected, Marcus swung the door open and leapt off the porch. He had a Spiderman Halloween costume on, with one of those plastic half-masks. I was kind of impressed that he remembered. The last day I had been here, before Santana and me moved out, he had said the next time I would see him I might not recognize him because he would be Spiderman.

He ran up to the car. Since he was so little he could barely see into it. But he held up three popsicles and knocked them against the window.

Santana laughed and I carefully opened my door so I didn't hit him.

"Here!" He held up one to me. Thankfully it was still wrapped in its paper wrapper. "This one is Santana's." He held up another one.

"Are you going to wear that to school?" I reached down and pinched the fabric of his costume. School was starting soon.

"What!" He scowled and slammed his mask down over his face. "No! I don't go to school!"

I laughed and handed Santana her popsicle after she walked around the car.

"How are you going to eat your popsicle with your mask on, you little freak?" Santana flicked the plastic mask that was now covering his face.

"Ugh!" He flicked back at her and then flipped the mask back up to rest on the top of his head. "It's hard to breathe in there."

Both Santana and me laughed and the three of us started toward the front door. It had been left wide open. "School is for losers," he sang and jumped up the step.

"What?" I couldn't believe he had said that. I thought all little kids thought school was exciting. "School is fun."

He reached for my hand when I walked in the house. Sometimes he held my hand when we went into different rooms in Santana's house and sometimes he ran like a maniac and sometimes he held Santana's hand. This time he held my hand for a second and then sprinted off towards the kitchen.

Santana was about to say something, but Marcus came sprinting back. He ran straight to Santana and punched her in the thigh. "Your papa is here," he whispered and then sprinted off again.

She froze. She looked like she was about to sprint out the front door. Her face went flush. "We can leave, Britt." She looked back at me, completely panicked.

Her mom walked into the room and there was no way we could leave now. "Brittany!" Her mom walked up to me and gave me a hug. "I love your shirt." She stepped back and admired the sloth on my shirt.

"It's for work." I grinned so big. "We're doing the Seven Deadly Sins theme."

She grinned just as big as I was and said that I must be Sloth.

She hugged Santana next. "Your father and abuela are here." And then her mom said something in Spanish. "Come help me in the kitchen, girls."

"Why is he here?" Santana quietly begged for an answer. I wished she had looked at me so I could give her a reassuring smile or at the very least a nod. I knew the last time I had met her father hadn't been ideal, but he hadn't been completely awful. Plus, her mom was really nice. I doubted that he would say something too scary in front of her. Maybe this could be a good thing.

Her mom hushed her and guided us into the kitchen. I kind of wanted Santana to have an answer about why her dad was here. I figured it would calm her down. But her mom does know their family a million times better than I do.

"It smells amazing," I said and walked up to the stove. There were lots of pans and lots of things cooking. Their house always smelled amazing. Like something spicy and sometimes like tortillas or even cinnamon.

Santana and her mom started talking again. It wasn't in Spanish, but I got the feeling that it wasn't something that I should overhear. So I excused myself and headed upstairs to the bathroom. I didn't like using the downstairs bathroom. It was way too nice and the last time I used it I broke a nail polish bottle in the sink.

I hopped up the last step and almost ran into the bathroom door before I noticed it was closed. I had been too busy looking at the family pictures on the wall.

The water was on. I could hear it. And then it shut off. The door opened.

An older woman jumped and grumbled when she saw me. She had to be in her late eighties. She had thick glasses, a dress that looked more like a fancy nightgown, and she was a lot shorter than I was. She mumbled some other things that I figured were in Spanish and also probably curse words. She had to be Santana's grandmother.

"Oh, sorry." I stepped back so she could get out of the bathroom. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm here with Santana. I'm Brittany," I introduced myself and almost held my hand out before I remembered when I had tried to shake Santana's dad's hand and he hadn't wanted to.

She just gave me a grumpy nod and started to waddle out of the bathroom. How did she get up the stairs? Wasn't that dangerous? "Do you want some help down the stairs?" I asked.

She shook her head. And then she stopped. "Shit," she cursed and slowly turned back around. "Forgot to feed that stupid cat." Her voice was raspy and shaky, but not in an unsteady way. She looked at me for a few seconds. "Get down the bag of cat food." Her accent was thick. It was more noticeable now that she had spoken a full sentence. She said something in Spanish, rolled her eyes, and then said _in the bathroom._

I immediately went in the bathroom and opened every cupboard until I found a small, purple, bag of cat food. It almost spilled, but I caught it right as it was falling. When I turned back to the hallway Santana's grandmother was staring at me and I was so thankful I hadn't spilled the cat food. "Where to now?" I asked.

"Follow me," she said.

I followed her. She walked really slowly. Now I was positive that there was no way she would be able to get down the stairs without someone's help.

"I have a cat too," I said. "His name is Lord Tubbington."

She turned and scowled at me before continuing. It made me smile.

"Now be very quiet. Whiskers is fragile. She doesn't need you stomping in there and giving her a heart attack."

I gave a quick nod.

She opened the door and pointed into the bedroom. It was the guest bedroom. It smelled like someone had left flowers in the room for way too long. The whole time I had stayed with Santana and her mom nobody had used it. It had always been empty. Now there were things strewn across the entire room. Bags, clothes, and a wig was hanging on the vanity mirror.

"It's on the dresser."

I tiptoed into the room. The cat wasn't anywhere to be found, so I tiptoed even lighter. I poured food in the bowl and then a necklace caught my attention. It was a cross with little turquoise gems. "This is pretty." I pointed to the necklace.

When I looked at her I knew she hadn't heard me.

"The necklace. It's pretty," I repeated myself. "Where did you get it?"

She wobbled in and picked it up. Her hands looked so old and wrinkled and her fingers were crooked. She held the cross in her palm. "There it is. I thought that little shit lost it." She said something about a spider and some other things in Spanish, and I knew she was talking about Marcus. "He either loses my jewelry or he's mouthing off about something. He spent the entire morning talking about some blonde girl." She looked up at me.

I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't sure if she was complaining or just stating a fact.

"That boy thinks you're something special." She smiled for the first time and then just stared at the necklace in her hand for a few minutes. "I got it from Santana's grandfather. He and I would go to antique stores every Tuesday afternoon." She pointed to the bottom of the dresser. "Under there, grab a box."

I dropped to my knees and looked under the dresser. There was a cloth jewelry box with faded rose designs. Had it been here the whole time? It was really dusty so it must have been. I pulled it out, stood up, and set it on the dresser.

She opened it and when she did there was so much jewelry. I bet that was why Santana had so much jewelry.

"This one is an amethyst." She set down the necklace and picked up a small purple rock. "I've had this ever since I can remember." She handed me the rock and then picked up a ring. "And this is a ring with the same type of stone." I loved how she talked. Her accent, how she said things. It was different.

She kept handing me different pieces of jewelry and had different stories for each one. It was amazing. My favorite was when she had told me she had stolen a ring from a pawn shop clerk because it was overpriced. She made it a point to say how clueless the guy had been handing her the ring and then walking in the back and not expecting her to steal it.

And then she went off on a tangent about smoking cigarettes. That was when I noticed Santana standing at the door. I smiled and gave her a small wave so I didn't interrupt her grandma.

"Lunch is ready." Santana walked up and grabbed her grandma's elbow. It was incredible to see how similar they were. "I'll help you down the stairs."

At first her grandma tried to say she could get down the stairs by herself, but right before the stairs she reached for Santana's arm. When we got to the kitchen, I didn't even notice her dad until we sat down. He looked just as intimidating as he had been at that work party, but I felt a little safer since there were a whole bunch of people around and since he didn't even notice me.

I sat between Marcus and Santana. Marcus had brought the half-melted popsicles to the table that we had left in the kitchen and then Santana's mom made him put them back in the freezer.

There was a lot of small talk with everyone and that made me feel even more comfortable. Santana kept giving me sneaky smiles and so I would tap her shin with my toe. And then Marcus kept chugging his milk and asking me to pour him glasses.

"You're going to get a stomach ache, Marcus," Santana's dad echoed across the table. Marcus froze and pulled the milk glass away from his mouth.

"Oh, let him be," Santana's mom responded without looking up from her plate.

"You're signed up for your classes this fall, Santana. Is that correct?" He turned his attention to Santana and suddenly the mood around the table shifted.

Santana nodded and shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth. I knew Santana hadn't wanted to take classes. She had talked to her mom and me about wanting to take a year off from school.

"School is lame," Marcus whispered across me, to Santana, and suddenly I thought he was the sweetest little boy in the world. He saying that so Santana had someone on her side.

"What about your friend?" Santana's dad spoke after taking a bite.

Me? I peeked up to see Marcus was staring at me and so was Santana's dad. So was everyone.

"Her name is Brittany." Santana said.

Her dad ignored the comment. "So, are you taking classes?" He had already asked me this. At the work party. I already had said no.

"No," I said again. Did he want me to elaborate and explain.

"Why not?" He asked.

Yes, I needed an explanation.

"Because not everyone is forced to take classes when they don't want to," Santana snapped.

He didn't look at Santana and kept his eyes on me. "I find it hard to believe any parent not strongly encouraging their child to get a proper education." Finally he looked at Santana. "Even if it is only from a community college."

"My dad is really, really, busy," I said and then regretted saying it because I didn't want him to think I was implying that he wasn't busy.

"And your mother?" When he asked that he side-eyed Santana's mom as if she had done something wrong.

This was the first time someone had asked about my mom and didn't know she had passed away. It was kind of nice that someone didn't know. But I got a weird empty feeling in my stomach the second I realized I had to talk about her.

"She passed away recently." I said it quickly and then shoved a whole bunch of food in my mouth, just like Santana had done earlier, hoping that would make him not want to ask me questions. I felt nervous. I didn't want to say something weird or inappropriate.

"What happened?" Santana's grandma asked. It was the first time she had talked during the lunch.

"She was sad." My voice felt like it had a million little nerves shaking through it. "And upset. I think she thought it'd be easier," I stopped. I didn't know exactly what my mom had been thinking and I didn't want to assume. "She thought it'd be easier," I paused again and stabbed the food on my plate with my fork, "or not as confusing if she wasn't here. I think." I swallowed my food and my mouth felt so dry. It felt weird saying that. I glanced at Santana thinking she'd maybe nod or smile to approve of what I said, but she didn't do anything.

I had no clue what made me say that much. Maybe because I was around Santana and I trusted Santana and she already knew so it was okay. And maybe because I liked her family. Or maybe it was because I was so taken off guard I didn't have time to figure out I didn't want to answer it.

I wished I hadn't looked at Santana. Now that weird felt even bigger. And saying that out loud made me realize how unfair and stupid the situation was. It didn't even have to happen. My hand was shaking from being so nervous, my eyes wanted to cry, and my body wanted to go hide.

"After lunch I'll take you back upstairs," Santana's grandmother spoke to me. "There's a jewelry box shoved far in one of the closets that I'll have you help me pull out."

I nodded and then Santana's mom started up another conversation. I was relieved that nobody apologized or asked more. When I peeked up at Santana's dad he pulled his eyes away from me before we made eye contact.

I tried to set my fork on my plate, but it fell off the edge and then clanked to the floor. "Sorry." I smiled and before I could duck down to pick up the fork Marcus was out of his chair and grabbed it for me.

He took the fork from his plate and put it on my plate and then took the dirty fork to the kitchen.

"That boy should not be wearing a costume all hours of the day," I heard Santana's grandma start to complain. She went on about it for a while.

Marcus came back with a new fork and went back to eating and everyone forgot that I was a nervous, clumsy, wreck.

I jumped a little when Santana touched my knee with her hand and squeezed. I exchanged a sneaky smile with her and we finished our lunch.

After that I went upstairs with Santana and her grandma, looked through jewelry, and then Quinn called and asked us to meet her at her mom's house to help her pick out a work costume for tonight. It figured would be fun to help Quinn pick out a costume. And even though I liked being in Santana's house I felt like I needed a little fresh air.

So we said goodbye to everyone, except Santana's dad since he had left before us, and we drove to Quinn's mom's house.

We parked, walked inside and this was the room that I remembered and the house where Quinn had had her party. It was still a huge house and beautiful, but it wasn't a mansion and it didn't have an elevator like her dad's house had. I bet Quinn would make the perfect president's daughter. Her dad had a huge house and she was always so well-poised, except for the one time when she pulled Santana off of the back of a bar stool. But those were extreme circumstances.

I walked straight for Quinn's bed and sat on the foot of it. I was so exhausted. I wanted to lie down and take a nap. I wondered if Santana and Quinn would want to do that.

"You're really going to wear that, Brittany?" Quinn smiled, laughed, and then walked over to her closet.

Santana slumped over to the bed and plopped down right next to me. Maybe we really could take a nap.

"Yeah," I squeaked through a yawn. Then I decided to give up on sitting and laid back onto Quinn's bed. Quinn had a lot of beds. One at our house, one here, and one at her dad's. "What are you wearing?" I closed my eyes. They were so heavy. I wished it was already Sunday and Santana and me could be doing my birthday surprise and I didn't have a full, busy, night's worth of work ahead of me. "We should get energy drinks before work."

The bed shifted and Santana laid down next to me. And then the bed shifted more and I felt her head rest on my arm. I smiled.

"Uh," Quinn's voice was softer since she was probably now in her closet and pulling out clothes. "I was just going to wear a tiara and get all dolled up."

Wait. "Why? I thought you were the Pride sin?" I was expecting Quinn to say she was wearing an American flag shirt or another country shirt. Or maybe a sports team. Why would she wear a tiara?

"It's supposed to mean vanity. It wouldn't be a deadly sin if I had pride in a country, unless maybe it's a bad country."

That made sense. Our costumes were supposed to be sins. I lifted my head a little and looked down at my shirt. I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. "Should I change? Does my shirt look stupid?"

"No," Santana mumbled just loud enough for me to hear.

"Your shirt fits you," Quinn spoke seconds later.

It fit me, but did it look stupid?

"What Quinn is trying to say," Santana mumbled again, "is that she is naturally conceited and therefore does not need to dress up out of the ordinary-"

Quinn cut her off. "I didn't mean it like that. Her shirt isn't stupid." I opened my eyes. "Your shirt isn't stupid. Don't change it," she looked at me. "It's easy and simple and cute. It fits you. Rachel could take a few pointers from you. All of us could."

That made me smile and feel a million times better about what I had chosen to wear.

There was a soft knock from the door. I turned my head to look at it and had to look over Santana. It was an older woman, who if I had to guess, would be Quinn's mother. She stood like Quinn, had the same hesitant smile as Quinn, and the same piercing green eyes.

I sat up and snaked my arm from underneath Santana. I hadn't met Quinn's mom yet.

"Hi girls." Her mom looked from Santana to me to Quinn. "Quinn, when you get a moment could you come downstairs?" Her mom had a soft voice.

"I need to get to work." Quinn didn't even look at her mom. She was shuffling through clothes in a dresser by her closet.

"It will only take a second," her mom insisted, but it wasn't demanding. It was still soft.

"I don't have time, mother," Quinn snapped.

My eyes widened and jumped back and forth between Quinn and her mom. I glanced at Santana and Santana wasn't even paying attention. She was lying there with her eyes closed. Quinn was going to make her mom upset. I was sure she didn't want to do that. My heart started to pick up and thud in my chest.

"Before you leave. It will only take a second," her mom spoke and my eyes snapped to her. She looked so timid, like a deer. And then she just left.

I knew I was sitting awkward and stiff and Quinn kept glancing over at me as she was digging through her dresser. "I'll be right back." Quinn grabbed her makeup bag and left the room.

I laid back down, this time resting my head on Santana's shoulder.

My heart hadn't slowed down. Even though I had been awful at saying things to my mom, I knew saying what Quinn had said would have been scary. I kept imagining Quinn's mom busting back in the room. She would be _calm _at first and then she would say something that didn't match the way she was pretending to be. And then she would kick Quinn out of the house.

"Do you know Judy?" Santana hummed. She started to comb her fingers through my hair.

I closed my eyes. "Quinn's mom?"

"Yeah."

"No."

Santana continued to run her fingers through my hair. It so badly made me want to fall asleep, but even more importantly it made me stop thinking of these horrible what-if scenarios in which Quinn's mother was my mother.

I took a shallow breath and scooted a little closer so the corner of my mouth was right against Santana's collarbone. "Does Quinn not like her mom?"

Santana spoke against my hair. It was like she was kissing the top of my head. "She does. She's just frustrated."

I wanted to ask Santana to explain, but it was Quinn's question to answer. Instead I just mumbled something that sounded like _okay _and relaxed completely on top of her.

"My abuela likes you," Santana spoke into the silence.

It startled me awake.

"Sorry," she whispered.

I smiled. "She was feisty," I responded. Santana was being sweet. There was no way her grandma liked me. Sure, she didn't _hate _me, but I think _like_ is a bit too strong of a word.

"My abuela doesn't talk to anybody. She won't even talk to my brother's wives. But she spent way too much time trying to convince you her cat was twenty-five years old, her costume jewelry was worth a fortune, and there was no proof that cigarettes cause lung cancer."

I laughed for a little bit. Her cat looked so creepy. I had seen it poke its head out from under the bed right before we left.

"So yes." Santana ran her fingertips up and down my back. "You are very good at talking."

I didn't know it was possible for hearts to smile until right now.

I opened my eyes and kissed her neck. It was a little cooler than where my cheek had been resting so it made my lips tingle. I kissed her neck once more with the softest kiss I could give and then laid my head back down on her shoulder.

"That's all?" Her chest lifted with a laugh.

The corner of my lips pulled into smirkiest-smirk ever. I liked the idea of her wanting me to kiss her more. But I also knew Quinn probably wouldn't feel comfortable if she walked in on us. And I knew Santana wouldn't feel comfortable if Quinn walked in. _Even_ _I_ wasn't entirely comfortable with kissing with other people around.

I lifted my head back up from her shoulder and lowered my lips to hers. The kiss matched the soft kiss I had given to her neck. "We can't make out here," I spoke into her lips.

When I pulled away from the kiss I saw her eyes instantly jerk towards the open door and I saw a flash of panic on her face. I think she had forgotten where we were, which made sense, because she looked really sleepy.

She frowned.

So I leaned back and I pecked her lips with mine. I could do a quick kiss. I pecked her again. It wouldn't count as making out if I just gave Santana a whole bunch of small kisses. So I did that.

She giggled and I giggled.

And then I decided to give her one last sneaky kiss. It was longer this time. We had been doing sneaky smiles all day and that always should lead to sneaky kisses. And I wanted to really to do more than peck her because it was hard not to do when her lips were so close.

_Hmm. _She let out a noise and it caused my stomach to twist. It caught me completely off guard. I bit her lip so she didn't notice my lips shaking. I let her lip go with a _pop. _

"Oops," I whispered through a shallow breath.

Her fingers slid over the back of my neck and she pulled me against her mouth and this time she pushed her tongue against mine. I had to force my hand to grab a handful of her shirt instead of finding its way down between her thighs.

We rolled. Now I was on my back and she was halfway on top of me. Where were her hands? She dipped her tongue back into my mouth. I clenched my thighs together, but quickly unclenched them and moved my knees apart for her in case she wanted to touch.

The kiss was so wet, but I couldn't think about anything other than how wet my underwear were starting to get. I spread my legs even further and inched my hips toward her. It was crazy how she made me feel. One second I wanted to fall asleep on her and then the next second I wanted her to push her fingers inside me.

My heart started to slam against my chest. Maybe it was because I knew how desperate my body was acting, or maybe it was because I wanted her to do something to me that she hadn't done yet.

She kissed me deep enough to send goosebumps all over my body. When her fingertips tickled the back of neck it sent shivers between my legs. "H-h-mm." I hummed in the middle of our kiss. I patted around for Santana's hand and at the same time moved my lips back against hers so the kissing didn't stop.

Finally I found her hand and I pulled it in between my legs.

"Britt." Santana stopped kissing.

She didn't have to say anything for me to realize why she was saying my name and why she stopped kissing.

I pulled my lips into my mouth just so I wouldn't be tempted to kiss again. I felt a little disoriented and really, really, really fouces in on her lips.

"Girls," a voice called into the room.

It wasn't Quinn.

I shot up so quickly. I didn't even know how I got from the bed to my feet without falling. My heart was hammering and it felt like it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Santana got up from the bed too, but not as panicked and jumpy as I had. She looked way more composed.

"Sorry," I whispered. I couldn't make myself look Quinn's mom in the eye. I wasn't sure what else to say and I didn't know if apologizing was the right thing to do. "Sorry," I whispered again, but knew she couldn't hear it.

"There are sandwiches downstairs if you're hungry." She smiled and it was the same exact smile she had given when I had seen her earlier, maybe a little more timid, if that were possible.

I peeked over at Santana. She still looked so composed. Did I look composed? I didn't feel composed. Why did I do that? I could still feel my heart slamming. _Slam, slam, slam._

"Thanks Judy," Santana responded. I didn't even have to look up from the floor to know she was smiling.

The floor creaked and then footsteps walked away.

Was she mad? She had to be mad. Maybe. I peeked at Santana again. I knew Santana would be upset. If I was a little shaken right now then Santana was really shaken. She didn't want her family to find out. Were Quinn's mom and Santana's family friends? They had to be.

I put my hand on Santana's back and started to lead both of us toward Quinn's door. I didn't know if saying anything would help. I didn't want to make a bigger deal out of what had just happened than needed to be and I didn't want to make less of a deal out of it. I wanted it be as much of a deal as Santana needed it to be.

I noticed my lips were still tucked into my mouth. "Sorry," I whispered to Santana. I was apologizing for getting caught, because Quinn's mom wasn't going to apologize and she didn't need to anyways.

Santana let out a small breathy laugh and we stopped just outside of Quinn's door. "If you weren't such a horndog," she teased and gently pushed my shoulder.

I was shocked. I heard myself gasp. I pushed her back. "You started it."

"What?" Santana hissed a little louder than a whisper. She knew she had been loud and covered her mouth.

"_Yooouuuu_," I dragged out the word, "started it..." And then I smiled, and tried as hard as I could to hold in a laugh.

Santana dropped her jaw and I could tell she was having a hard time keeping from laughing too. "No," she collected herself. "You had your pouty lips all up on this," she used her hand to gesture and circle her face and neck.

I shook my head, no.

"What!" She hissed loudly again. It was cute to see her get so defensive. She pinched her eyebrows together and was waiting for me to explain.

I think it was a good thing she was being so playful after us getting caught. It felt like she took what we had seriously, which I already knew she did. But I liked that despite how closed off and how many walls she has, or had, she was acting like our relationship was more important than what other people were going to say.

"It's your fault for being so hot." I said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What did you expect me to do?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh my God." She lifted her hand and started to use her thumb to rub just below my lip. Her forehead creased. "It's not coming off."

When she pulled her hand away I rubbed the heel of my palm on the same spot.

"I have makeup remover in the car. It's just lipstick," she said.

I pulled my bottom lip as far as I could into my mouth. I didn't want to go downstairs and eat sandwiches with a huge obvious lipstick smear, for the same reason I hadn't wanted to go to work with a whole bunch of hickies on my neck after that first sexy night with Santana.

She reached up to rub my lip one last time with her thumb.

Someone cleared their throat. It made both of us jump and Santana snap her hand away from my lips.

Quinn was standing by the top of the stairs. She wasn't smiling or anything. It made me a little uneasy the way she was looking at us. I couldn't tell what she was thinking and I didn't know how to stand or if I needed to say something.

"Yes?" Santana interrupted the silence, thank God. My heart had started to pick up again.

"You guys should leave." Her words were flat and empty, like she had planned what to say and been practicing it the entire time on her way up the stairs.

Leave? What, why? "Why?" I asked and it came out differently than I had meant it to. I didn't want her to think I wasn't going to leave if she wanted.

"Why?" She used the same tone, but this time let out a little laugh. Not a nervous laugh, or a giggle, or a surprised laugh. It was an empty laugh.

My heart was in my throat and I didn't know if I could say anything else without my voice cracking. Usually Quinn was so straightforward even if she had a secret or wasn't saying something. This was different.

"I'll meet you at work, I still need to change." And that was that. She walked towards a closet and pulled out a few towels and didn't acknowledge us any further.

Now Santana looked like she had done something wrong. Ashamed. It bothered me that Quinn made her feel like that and I wanted to tell Santana she shouldn't feel like that.

We left. We didn't say anything and when we had gotten to the bottom of the stairs I had a tiny little panic attack, because I was worried we would run into Quinn's mom. Even though Quinn didn't say why she was asking us to leave, I knew it had to do with me and Santana kissing in her room.

Both of us were silent across the front lawn and I think I held my breath the whole way. It felt so good to sit down and shut the door to Santana's car. At first I wanted to cry. I had been holding in so much, but then I felt my face getting hot. I didn't know how to react, what to think.

"She is such a fucking drama queen." Santana slammed her car door shut and yanked her keys out of her purse. She looked so angry. "It's not even a big fucking deal." I was relieved she was angry now and not ashamed, even if part of me knew they were connected.

Us kissing wasn't a big deal? Santana threw her purse in the back seat. My purse! I had forgotten it. "I forgot my purse inside," I said.

Santana's jaw clenched and she let out a heavy sigh. She threw her hands up in defeat and fell back into her seat.

"I'll be right back." I reached for the door as slowly as I could, wanting to make sure I wasn't leaving at a bad time. But I did need my purse. It had my work keys and car keys and wallet and phone.

"Okay," Santana hushed through her still clenched teeth.

I opened the door, carefully shut it, and then ran to Quinn's front door. Did I knock when I got there? But before I had decided I was already at the front door and rang the doorbell. I turned back to look at Santana, but her car was too far away from me to really see her.

The door opened. I was glad it was Quinn. Sort of. I think. "I forgot my purse." I was a little out of breath.

Quinn stepped back and gestured for me to come in. I walked in and headed straight for the couch in the living room.

"What were you thinking, Brittany?" Quinn snapped.

I picked up my purse and turned to face her. "Sorry," I said and I knew I sounded timid. It gave me weird deja vu feelings about her mom. I didn't need to act scared of Quinn, because I wasn't. So I straightened up and shrugged.

"You do know my mom repeats absolutely _everything _to _everyone _at church. Santana's family goes to that church. Your sister goes to that church." She crossed her arms and then let out a frustrated sigh. "You have lipstick all over your face, come on." She walked towards me, grabbed my wrist and then pulled me to the guest bathroom.

She jerked open one of the drawers and pulled out a little towel, wet the towel, grabbed my chin with one of her hands and then started to rub off the lipstick that was there.

"I wanted my mom to like you," Quinn said.

She didn't like me anymore?

Quinn must have known what I was thinking, because she spoke like I had said that thought out loud. "I mean, she'll like you. She likes everyone." She ran the towel under the water again and then set the towel on the sink. "I just don't want her _thinking _things about you and telling everyone those things." Quinn held her breath. Her eyes started to water.

I didn't know why she was so upset. And I didn't know why it would matter _that _much what her mom thought of me if her mom was going to still like me. And I didn't want Quinn to be upset. And I definitely didn't want to be the reason she was upset.

"Bad things?" I asked. Were people going to think bad things?

She took a second to respond. "In my room?" Her voice cracked, but she stopped. When before it felt like my heart was in my throat, now it felt like my heart had fallen out. Or at least Quinn had pulled it out. "And on my bed?" she whispered and her voice shook so badly.

_Oh my God._ My heart stopped panicking and stopped racing. Really? In _her _room and on _her _bed. That was what really bothered her right now.

"I didn't know," I spoke softly.

"What? You didn't know the door was open, or that other people were around?" Quinn started to list things and it was to cover up what she accidentally implied.

I didn't know she would be so upset if I kissed Santana. I didn't know she would care. But that was stupid. She had asked me before why I picked Santana.

She liked me.

"You should go," Quinn turned to the mirror and wipe at the smeared mascara under her eyes.


	11. Moving Skyscrapers

**a/n: This is the song for the chapter! Make sure to add _youtube dot com _and then a _slash _before the following half link. Or just go to youtube and search _Skyscraper Demi Lovato_**

**watch?v=r_8ydghbGSg**

**Chapter 11 : Moving Skyscrapers**

It was so warm. It was supposed to be this warm, right? Late summer, but still summer. Summer, summer, summer. I tried to think of anything other than what had just happened with Quinn, but it was hard.

Being told by Quinn to leave her house, two times in a row, was more than enough to get me to leave and maybe never want to come back. It was an uncomfortable kind of getting kicked out, not a mean kind.

I walked as normal as I could just in case she was watching through a window and because I knew Santana was watching from her car. More than anything I wanted to run, get in the car with Santana, curl up on her lap, and cry. Crying is the best distraction when upsetting things happen because crying is so overwhelming.

Actually I wasn't even sure if I was going to cry. Crying didn't feel right, because Quinn had been crying. Two people crying at the same time is scary. Me crying was overwhelming, other people crying was tragically beautiful, but me crying at the same time as someone else was tragic and overwhelming. It was scary.

The closer I got to the car the more I realized maybe I didn't want to get in the car with Santana. What would I say?

Would it be okay to tell Santana what Quinn had said? Quinn hadn't really _said _anything, just implied. But it didn't feel like something I could share.

I was starting to feel sick. Maybe Santana and me could go somewhere until Quinn forgot. I shook my head, forcing myself not to think about it. I knew I would ruin something if I overthought this.

I opened the passenger door. It was so much cooler in Santana's car. I shut the door. Was I going to cry? I better not.

"Oh my God," I whispered to myself. Even though I knew I didn't have it, I checked by my feet for my purse. "I forgot my purse again." I didn't look at Santana. I didn't feel stupid for forgetting it, because there was a really big reason I had forgotten it, but I definitely knew it looked stupid that I had forgotten it.

Santana opened her door. Was she going to go get it? No! "Wait," I said, and couldn't mask any of my panic.

She stopped with one leg out of the car. Her confusion countered my panic.

"It's okay," I said, trying to convince myself that it was okay if my purse stayed here. But it wasn't, especially now that Quinn didn't want me in her house. "I don't need it."

Santana was thinking. I swear she knew exactly what had just happened with Quinn, even if that was impossible. "I'll be right back." She stood up out of her car and shut the door before I could say anything.

It felt like my heart was going to crawl up my throat and make me even more nauseous. Santana marched across the front lawn and I couldn't decide if I was overreacting or underreacting. What if Quinn thought I had told Santana and then Quinn got even more upset? What if they got in an argument because they didn't know what each other knew? Or what if Quinn told Santana before I told Santana? I don't want Santana to think I hid stuff from her.

I was overreacting, I knew I was.

Santana started slamming her fist against the front door. "Shit," I breathed. I reached for my door handle, but that was as far as I could force myself to go. It would be okay. Quinn's mom would open the door and Santana would calm down.

But Quinn's mom didn't open the door. Santana pounded against it again, and again, and again. And each time her fist slammed against the wood I relaxed a little, because maybe nobody would answer the door.

But then Quinn opened the door.

I felt all the heat drain from my face. This was what a ghost felt like. This was why ghosts were dead, because they had panic attacks.

I ducked my head down to hide.

At first I thought it was going to be okay. They were just talking. That was fine. But then it wasn't fine. Santana pointed towards me and made other big gestures. She started yelling. I didn't know what Quinn had said, but it was something that made Santana angry.

This was a misunderstanding. I shouldn't have kissed Santana that much on Quinn's bed. But her and Quinn were good friends and there was no reason for them to get mad over something that had to do with me. I should get out of the car and explain that. _It wasn't _that_ big of a deal._

Finally I opened my door. I started walking towards them. And when I reached them I hadn't had enough time to think of something to say. Maybe I didn't need to say anything and I could just grab Santana's hand and leave. Quinn wanted us to leave so we should leave. Santana and me could leave and I could explain. Easy plan.

"Answer the question!" Santana hissed. She hadn't noticed me yet.

Quinn had noticed me. She ignored Santana and gave me one of those looks people would normally mistake for a dirty look, but instead I knew it was because Quinn was upset.

I looked away from her and reached for Santana's hand. "We should go." I squeezed Santana's hand, but she didn't squeeze back.

"You're right," Quinn snapped. I knew she was looking at me, but instead I kept my eyes on Santana. This was supposed to be easy. Get Santana and leave. But I couldn't move walls. They had big walls and I was just one person. I couldn't move them.

Quinn quickly had given up on waiting for me to say something. She walked in the house and only seconds later was back outside.

My purse slammed into my chest. It knocked a grunt of air out of my lungs before it fell and hit the porch. Everything fell out. My phone, my wallet, my coin purse. Her throwing my purse was the last thing I had expected.

I reached for Santana, but she had already slapped Quinn.

It was the loudest slap I had ever heard. It startled me. My body jumped almost too much in response and it hurt.

Quinn stood there with big eyes and her hand pressed against her cheek. I couldn't believe Santana had done that. I was speechless and unable to do anything, because _I couldn't believe she did that._

But it was silly for me to be this surprised. I knew Santana and I knew she sometimes did things in big ways.

"Get your stupid shit off of my porch," Quinn spoke through gritted teeth. Her surprised doe-eyes were gone.

"Shut the fuck up." Santana bent down to pick up my purse. I squatted with her and picked up things as quickly as I could. I wanted to leave. I felt sick and too warm. "And stop freaking out." Santana was flustered. Obviously she hadn't liked slapping Quinn and maybe she hadn't meant to. Quinn was one of her her closest friends. "It's not like your mom caught _you_ kissing Brittany." She mumbled that last part.

"Oh, my, God, Brittany." Quinn emphasized and separated each word. "It only took two seconds for you to start repeating things you don't understand?"

I stood up and shook my head. I didn't repeat anything.

Quinn continued. "You really obsess about Santana _that _much?" Her words were so strong and whip-like, but she looked so baffled. "I live in the same house as the two of you and I hear your conversations. Just because you think you can't say things properly doesn't give you any right to start saying _whatever _you want. Santana isn't going to leave just because you forget to repeat every pathetic thing you could possibly repeat."

I knew Quinn didn't mean it. Even if she had hit a little too close to home, I knew she was only trying to fix her feelings.

"Excuse me?" Santana cocked her head.

We were leaving. I grabbed Santana's hand and I pulled her. We had to leave. This conversation had gone way too far and now everyone was saying and doing things that should be secrets. Santana would never slap someone she cared about and Quinn would never say things like that. They were scared-reactions.

I dragged Santana to the car. At first she resisted and told me to let go, but when I didn't she just walked with me. I heard Quinn say some other things, but I ignored them. I made myself not listen, because secrets weren't for the wrong people to hear.

When we got in the car Santana zoomed down the road so fast. For a second I thought she was going to run a stop sign or hit a dog, but then she calmed down and slowed down and instead of driving like a maniac she started driving really slow.

"What did she say to you?" Santana broke the silence. I could barely hear her speak and hearing her speak made me remember that talking was what I wanted. I wanted to get away from Quinn so I could talk to Santana and explain everything.

I shrugged.

"Fuck!" she cursed and then took in a breath. "Brittany, what did she say to you?"

She was mad. Very mad. It made me mad. I didn't understand why everyone was mad and it was stupid. "I told you that you don't need to take care of me." I had to bite down and clench my own jaw to keep myself from saying more. But it was true. Santana didn't have to ruin her friendship with Quinn.

"She threw your purse at you and you just stood there!" Santana yelled. I wasn't used to her yelling at me. And I didn't like it, especially because it was from the one person I had wanted to run away and hide with.

I shrugged again. I knew it would make her angry that I was shrugging, but I didn't know how to yell at her. Maybe shrugging was my way of yelling.

"I'm not taking care of you," Santana lowered her voice but looked just as angry. I heard her take in and let out another breath. "I wasn't there when Karofksy was saying things to you and I didn't say anything when Rachel was being a bitch at Breadstix. But if I have to slap every fucking person in this world for you to realize you are more important than you give yourself credit for then I will do it. Nobody, not even Quinn, should treat you like that."

I knew Santana was angry Quinn had not only insulted me, but _us. _Santana was terrified of our relationship changing her other important relationships. And Quinn was important to her. "Quinn was upset."

Santana didn't respond. No shit Quinn was upset. I continued so Santana could at least have something to respond to. "I think she's lonely."

"Everyone is lonely," Santana responded.

"I'm not." I didn't miss a beat with my response. And I wasn't lonely. Having someone like Santana was the most un-lonely thing in the world. I started to fiddle with my shorts. My response had been too quick and Santana wasn't saying anything.

Was she lonely? I felt my body twitch, almost like it was rewinding and thinking about everything again. No. I would know. I peeked over at Santana. Why wasn't she answering? She was just looking forward. She had family and she had friends and sometimes she had big walls. Sure it could be lonely inside big walls, but wasn't I on her side of the wall? Maybe she didn't know she was supposed to say something. Maybe she wasn't even supposed to say something and I was having crazy thoughts.

"And anyone who is dating Brittany isn't lonely," she smiled. It should have been a relief to hear her say that, but it wasn't. I still felt crazy.

Santana knew about Quinn. I knew she knew something. She was smart. She reached for my hand and pulled it in her lap and I felt a little less crazy. It was easy to forget crazy thoughts like that around her.

We were quiet the rest of the car ride. I played with Santana's hand and the ring on her finger. She must have just found it recently, because I thought it was lost. She insisted Marcus had swallowed it. Anyone would think she sounded insane for that accusation, but I was there when Marcus didn't want to give back this little marble thing, shoved it in his mouth, ran away, and then came back two seconds later in tears because _it was in his belly_. Santana had gotten really mad at him, especially after he had pretended to choke.

She parked and I was about to open my door, but she pulled me back by my hand. "Do you remember when I said I had no clue what I was doing?"

I was scurrying through my mind trying to pinpoint when she had said that. It was easy. I nodded. Her saying she loved me had been one of the best conversations ever and that's when she had said that.

"What about it?" I started to play with her ring again. When I looked at her from the corner of my eye she looked so tired. "Sorry you slapped Quinn." The apology slipped out of my mouth the instant I remembered why she probably looked that tired.

She took in and let out a quick breath. And then she took in another breath and I didn't hear her let it out. "I don't know what I'm doing."

I just waited for her to continue. She never did. I think she just needed a few minutes to sit and think.

When she said she was ready to go inside she held my hand all the way through the parking lot. It was cute and not something we normally did. I was smiling so big because maybe she needed to hold my hand to calm down. I liked giving her things she needed.

Santana went to change into her outfit and I went and sat at the piano. I didn't start work for another hour. So I stared at the sheet music. It looked like it should be easy to understand, but I had no clue how anyone could ever possibly understand it. How did you know which key to push? I glanced down at the piano keys and then back at the papers. Why were there so many notes and what if you had short fingers and couldn't reach?

"Hey there!" Tina greeted me and also startled me. "Sorry," she apologized.

I started to get up from the bench figuring she was here to practice, but she told me to stay and sat down next to me. So I stayed and she started to shuffle through the music.

"Are you okay?" she asked. It sounded like she knew that was an appropriate question. "You've been sitting here for twenty minutes and haven't even played any notes." She teased.

I returned a smile. "I don't know how to play," I reminded her.

She rolled her eyes and flipped through a few more sheets of music before she set one up. "I just had one of the weirdest conversations of my life. People always assume I won't repeat what they say." She winked and it made me giggle, because it was true. Tina didn't repeat stuff unless it was important someone else heard.

"Who's singing this?" I asked about the sheet music she had just set up. _Skyscraper._

"Santana."

What? I turned and looked around the restaurant and bar. No Santana. Mercedes was serving a table and Rachel was behind the bar, but I couldn't find anyone else. Why would Santana change her song? I knew this wasn't what she had picked, because I had spied on her song last night.

"Can I ask a question?" Tina played a few of the keys. It was probably the first note of the song.

"Sure." My nerves started to make nervous. If Tina, one of my closest friends, was asking permission to ask a question, then it was worthy of getting nervous about. The only other time I could remember her asking me if she could ask a questions was after we first met and she asked if I was close with my mom.

She played another note by pressing a whole bunch of keys at once. "Would you and Santana like to go to bowling night? Mike's parents always invite their friends and not that I don't enjoy the company, but everyone is forty years older than us. It'd be nice to have a couple our age."

I loved Tina. "Fun." I was smiling way too big, but I didn't care. "I'll ask Santana."

Tina was easy. She knew stuff. She didn't get mad at me for sometimes sneaking into Santana's room at night like Rachel did and she didn't confuse me like Quinn did. She didn't even know too much like Mercedes. Mercedes knew too much about me and Santana's relationship because her room was right next to ours and the walls were thin…

Tina played a different note.

That wasn't all she had wanted to say. I could tell. Part of what made Tina so simple, was that she was so _simple_. "We can order pizza while we're there," I said. I tried as hard as I could to keep the conversation about bowling and Santana.

Tina sighed and pulled her hands away from the keys. My body sunk into itself. But I refused to think of worst possible scenarios. I was already so burned out.

"Quinn was talking to Rachel and me-," Tina paused. I whipped around to scan the bar again and again I only saw Rachel. "-about you and Santana," Tina finished.

_What? _No. Impossible. What about us? I heard a laugh and it had to come from me. Quinn hadn't even been able to talk to me earlier, so she wasn't going to talk to other people about _that. _There was no way Tina meant what I thought she meant.

"I'm not sure if it's okay she's saying what she's saying. Quinn never goes out of her way to talk to Rachel and rarely talks with me." Tina turned to face me even more. "What she was saying seemed a little," she paused, "out of place."

I was staring and expressionless. My heart was probably racing, but I was too focused on Tina to notice.

"It's stupid," Tina rolled her eyes and put her hands back on the piano. She played a few notes in a row.

No. It was important. "What'd she say?" I finally asked, because I knew Tina was waiting for me to give her permission.

"To make a long story short and less graphic..." Tina stopped playing the piano. "She was saying something about how her mom walked in on you and Santana rounding third base."

_No._

My stomach dropped.

"I know," Tina nodded. "She's over exaggerating. Quinn tends to do that."

She does?

"She can't tell people that." It felt a knot start to form in my throat.

I think Tina regretted telling me. So I tried to stop looking so upset. But I couldn't. That was for me and Santana and accidentally for Quinn to know about. It was private. It shouldn't be for other people to hear. What if Santana knew she was saying things? Santana was going to find out. She was going to be hurt and ashamed and angry, just like in the car, but this time a million times worse.

Tina didn't know what else to say. I didn't blame her.

I felt like a rubber band that had snapped. I pinched my lips together so hard. I couldn't form any thoughts that made sense. None other than wondering where Quinn was. This needed to be fixed. Now.

I turned and looked for her. She was at the stupid bar.

I stood up and I marched straight for her. Everything I felt was entirely too big. My body was shaking. I had to clench my fists to keep what little control I had left. Why would she say that? I squeezed my fists tighter and dug my nails into my skin.

Quinn saw me coming and what made it worse was she didn't care. She glanced at me and then went back to stacking glasses like it was okay.

I reached the bar and she still didn't look up. "Stop talking about what happened," I whispered, but it wasn't that quiet. I was too angry for it to be quiet. I didn't understand how anyone ever controlled anything they said or did when they were angry. I wanted to pick up stools and throw them across the restaurant. I wanted Quinn to know I was angry.

"What?" She didn't look up.

"I'm with Santana," I snapped back at her. I was trying so hard to be careful with what I said, but it was hard. "You can't go around treating my relationship with Santana the way you are. It's important to her and it's important to me."

Quinn laughed. She fucking laughed.

"Oh my God," I whispered because I was way too mad to just think it. "It's not a joke," I hissed. I knew her laugh had been because she was nervous, but I wasn't processing those things like I should be. She shouldn't be nervous if she as being mean.

"I didn't say it was a joke," Quinn snapped back. "I said what happened. If you're going to bring your relationship into my bed without thinking twice about it, then why should I think twice about what I say?"

I held my hands up. I was so, so, so frustrated. I clenched my fists and then slowly unclenched them. "Don't talk about it," I demanded. It was the only thing I could get out. Santana was too important to me and her family was too important to Santana to have something stupid like me kissing her on a bed mess those things up.

Quinn let out another, short, breathy laugh.

I slapped the glasses over that she had been stacking. They were plastic so they didn't break. But they were noisy.

Quinn jumped. I figured it was loud enough for other people to hear, but unless someone was watching they would think it was an accident. "What are you doing?" Quinn snapped at me. "Are you crazy?"

No. I think. No. I wasn't crazy.

"Was it because she slapped you?" I started to search for a reason. I was desperate. "You're telling secrets because she slapped you?" She couldn't go around saying a secret like that, that big, and expect bad things not to happen.

She looked away from me and started to stack the remaining cups that I hadn't knocked over. She was going to ignore me.

"What?" I said. It felt like too many of my muscles were too tense. "Now you have nothing to say?" My mind was running too fast, I had too many little things I wanted to spit at her and I didn't know which one would convince her to stop repeating what had happened and instead talk to me in private.

She slammed a cup down. "Are you that clueless?"

I jumped.

"I can't believe how obsessed you are with her," Quinn laughed again and that nearly sent me off the edge. "The only way I can get you to pay any attention to me is if I go through her. Everything is about her. I get it, you lost your mom and you're grieving and hurt, but if you're not careful you're going to lose everyone else. Rachel was right. You are so locked up inside of yourself."

"What?" I didn't know how much of that was true and how much of it was Quinn being upset. I wanted her to repeat it.

She rolled her eyes. It made me laugh, but not a nice laugh. I couldn't believe how angry I was. I knew I was too angry and I didn't know how to stop it.

"You are so obsessed with Santana," Quinn talked slow and separated each word. "That the only way for me to get your attention is through her. You wouldn't have thought twice about coming over here and talking to me if I had only said something about you to everyone. For goodness sake, you left me crying in my bathroom so you could leave with her."

Was she joking? "You told me to leave!" I threw my hands up again. Big gestures felt like the only way to emphasize how confused I was.

"Santana was outside-," Quinn stopped. She shook her head. "Forget it."

I watched her shuffle around the cups for a second. "I'm here to talk," I tried to get her attention. "So talk." She wasn't looking at me. "If you have something to say." My voice started to shake so I stopped. It was because I was so angry. Angry to the point where I didn't know if yelling, stomping, crying, or storming away was appropriate.

"Go away," Quinn mumbled.

It was so hard to hold in my reaction, but I was too scared to react. Instead I stood there like an idiot. "Please," I begged.

No response.

"Quinn," I tried to get her attention, but she still wasn't looking. I felt exactly like I had felt when my mom kicked me out and Puck had picked me up. Like I couldn't do something as simple as have a conversation with someone I cared about.

"Stop," I told her. She still refused to acknowledge me. I started to say something and forced myself to stop. But I couldn't keep it in any longer. I was scared. "Leave me alone." My voice shook. I swallowed the nerves in my throat and continued. "I'm in love with Santana, not obsessed. You're obsessed with me." I swallowed again. I knew that wasn't true, but I didn't know what else to say.

Quinn's entire body flinched and even though she didn't look at me I knew she had heard me.

Rachel walked up. Of course Rachel walked up. Rachel always walked up. "What's going on?" She looked back and forth between Quinn and me.

Neither of us answered.

I was embarrassed and angry at the same time, which meant my face was abnormally red.

"You can't just leave those on the ground, Quinn." Rachel pointed at the plastic glasses that were scattered behind the bar. "You girls are knocking over glasses, Santana is changing her song last minute and nobody is taking anything seriously."

I snuck a glance at Quinn long enough to see her crouched down picking up the cups and rubbing the heel of her hand across her cheek. She was crying. I had made her cry.

So I walked away. Rachel followed and was saying something about Santana switching her song, but I didn't listen. I rounded the bar and pushed the door open into the back. And the first thing I did when I got in the back was look for Santana. But then I stopped myself. I was too confused to talk.

"Hey there, hot stuff." Holly swooped in. "Where's the fire?" I had been too busy wanting to find Santana and then trying not to find Santana that I hadn't noticed she was back here. Was she talking to me? I looked around. It was just Rachel standing behind me. "I'm all for letting your frustration out on inanimate objects, but we need that door to be functional."

"Sorry," I was trying so hard to collect myself. Everything felt so quick. Quick. Quick. Quick. I couldn't keep up, I couldn't decide.

"No worries," Holly said and shrugged. "It could have been worse, especially if you had been going to those jazzercise classes with me."

Holly always cheered me up. Her mood was the most contagious thing in the world. Usually. But right now it wasn't. I didn't get it. I didn't get why she was so happy and I didn't want to talk. So I kept quiet. I was so scared of saying something that I would regret, because I already regretted making Quinn cry. I hated doing that. It made me feel gross.

"What's with the sourpuss?" Holly peeked past me and raised an eyebrow at Rachel. "Ouch," Holly cringed when we made eye contact. If she wouldn't have said _ouch_, I wouldn't have noticed I had rolled my eyes.

"Sorry," I immediately apologized. I wasn't rolling my eyes at her. It had to do with what I was thinking.

"No, no," Holly said. "Don't apologize."

We all three stood there. It was awkward. _I_ was awkward, they were fine. But I guess it was better than running into Santana, so it wasn't that bad. My mind kept skipping and repeating what I had said to Quinn. I should go back out there. That was mean. Did Rachel hear what I had said? I turned around and looked at her.

"I need to clock in," I mumbled. I didn't like standing and not talking to them.

"Pfft," Holly waved off what I said with her hand. "Rachel was headed that way, she can do you a solid."

"I was?" Rachel spoke from behind me.

"I can do it," I blurted and then nearly ran off.

I walked as fast as I could and it finally felt like I could take a breath when I got in the break room. My hand shook when I tried to open my locker. I stopped halfway through the combination, realizing I didn't even need to open it. Instead I took a seat on a bench nearby and that's all I did. Sat. I sat and I forced myself to stop thinking.

I didn't know if apologizing now or later was better. Or maybe no apology. Yes, I should apologize. Quinn didn't deserve that. My stomach turned over and over. Why did I do that? "So stupid," I whispered.

And then I heard exactly what I knew would happen. Santana and Quinn yelling. Every other word was a bad word. After a few seconds I just zoned out and pretended I couldn't hear what was happening. Listening to them fight started making me really feel like puking. They would stop soon. One of the girls would interrupt them and if I went out there, I would make it worse. I had already made it worse. All I had to do was hide out in here until I felt less sick.

The locker room door slammed open and then shut. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I knew it was Santana before I saw her.

"Oh." She stopped and I swear every bit of frustration and anger drained from her face.

But then she spoke and I knew she was still mad. "What's wrong?" she asked. She continued talking as if she hadn't asked the question. "She's fucking pathetic."

I interrupted. I knew Santana was angry, but I also knew she wouldn't normally say what she was going to say. "Did you yell at her?"

"She wouldn't even talk to me," Santana huffed. The break room door opened and shut. Santana didn't hear it. She kept going. "She let Puck get her pregnant, _twice_, she's competing with me for God knows what, and now she's running her mouth about you and me. This is why nobody likes her. This is why Puck knew she was pregnant and pretended he didn't know. He actually came to me, asked what was going on, said he'd rather not be involved with her, and then bribed me not to tell her he knew about her baby. She's crazy. Quinn Fabray is crazy."

Halfway through Santana's rant I saw Quinn. But I couldn't stop Santana. Santana was venting. She had every right to. In fact, she kind of reminded me of one of those cartoons that turned into a bouncing, steaming, crazy mess.

I pointed at Quinn. Again, secrets weren't meant for the wrong people to hear.

Quinn looked between us, didn't cry, didn't say anything, and then she left.

Santana stood there for a second. She looked more hurt than Quinn had. I knew a million thoughts were racing through her mind at a million miles per hour, but she was holding it all in.

Did we talk now? I didn't know. "Are yo-"

Santana cut me off. Not in a rude way. We just had both talked at the same time. "I'm going to go back out." She stopped.

I nodded. And then I swallowed the lump that was building up in my throat. "Quinn is just so lonely." I wanted Santana to know this wasn't her fault and it really wasn't Quinn's fault. It was just something that happened. It was important that Santana knew that. My mind started to race and I had to explain. I had to say something that made sense.

She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight from one leg to another. She looked so uneasy. _Fuck. _She cursed under her breath.

"I don't like Quinn saying that stuff. I tried to talk to her. I said something mean. But-, I don't understand, I mean, I do understand." I stopped. Too many words at once. "She..." I stopped again. Quinn was lonely. She was scared. I think the only way she knew how to protect herself was to put her walls up. Except she had sharp scary walls. Santana had turtle shell walls and Quinn had porcupine walls.

Santana restrained a very small, very weak, smile. She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and then unfolded her arms. "I said mean things too." She walked over and sat by me.

I felt weird. Really weird. Not sick feeling, not angry, not sad, just weird. Maybe this was how you were supposed to feel after you did something mean. Empty? No. Not empty. Like something was wrong. That was the only way I could describe it. I felt like something was wrong.

Santana laid her head on my shoulder. Her head felt heavy and I figured it was from all the thoughts that were running through it. "I shouldn't have been mean," she said.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against hers. I didn't know if it would be true to say, _it's okay _or _it will be fine. _So I just said something I knew. "It was an accident."

I didn't know if that helped, but I felt her head nod.

We sat. And sat. The longer we sat the more I realized this wasn't solving anything. It was just making me impatient. My hands were clammy and when she reached for my hand my heart somersaulted. Gross. She didn't want to touch my icky hands. "Sorry," I apologized.

"Hm?" Santana hummed.

I pulled my hand away. It easily slid out from hers. I wiped the sweat against my shorts. I didn't look at Santana. I was trying to keep things simple until I felt less crazy. Whenever I felt weird it always went away and I always felt like I overreacted. So I just won't react now and figure it out later. "I need to clock in." I stood up and walked over to the timecards.

I could feel her watching me. Each step I took felt like it meant something and like she knew another secret just from watching. I pinched my lips together, thinking maybe that would make it harder for her to see something was wrong. And nothing was seriously wrong. Something was only temporary wrong. I would talk to Quinn and I would apologize and it would be better.

Where was my card? I looked at the cards and didn't even read them. I didn't even know what I was thinking anymore. I was spacing out. I knew I was.

What was I doing? One second I wanted to talk to Santana, the next I didn't. One second I knew why I was angry and then the next I wasn't angry.

I clocked in. I knew this was backwards relationship progress. I wanted to talk to her. I should talk to her. So I put my card back and I walked to her. She was still on the bench and watching me. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Can we talk about this later?" We could talk later. I smiled. Why didn't I think of that sooner?

"Of course," she agreed and I knew she didn't feel as relieved as I did, but it was a start.

I kissed her cheek one more time and then sat down next to her. I reached for her hand. "You switched your song?"

"Maybe," Santana laughed and put her head back on my shoulder. Her laugh didn't sound like her normal laugh. It was half a laugh, because I think the other half of her was still upset about what she had said.

We sat in the break room for a while, just talking. She told me what the song was about and said really sweet things about me. It made me blush. She said she wished that everyone who lost something important or someone important would become stronger. She also said some things about skyscrapers and escalator-friends, and it made me laugh. That certain people were skyscrapers and other people were escalators inside the skyscraper that helped make it bigger and better. She got mad that I laughed at her metaphor, but then I told her I wasn't laughing because it was bad. It was sweet. And I told her I was also laughing because Rachel wouldn't want to be referred to as one of my escalators.

**xxxx**

Quinn wasn't behind the bar with us. I saw her walking around a few times and she would come up and place drink orders for different tables, but she never stayed long enough to actually talk or make eye contact with anyone.

I overheard her ask Will if she could leave early. Will said she could when it slowed down. I wasn't sure if I wanted her to leave or stay. I think I just wanted the day to start over so I could do it differently.

If I could get her attention, I could tell her I didn't mean what I had said and Santana hadn't mean what she had said. I had it planned out. First I would say sorry and then I would tell her we meant none of it. Especially Santana.

"What?" I noticed someone was trying to order a drink from me.

"I got it." Rachel was already filling a glass of beer from the tap.

Next customer. I looked for one and then stopped looking. I peeked over at Santana for the millionth time tonight. I was hoping one of the times we would make eye contact, but each time I looked I never caught her looking in my direction.

I could just walk over there. It's not like there was a line in the bar I couldn't cross. So I walked over to Santana. She was mixing a blue drink. When I reached her, she turned, we bumped into each other and the drink spilled all over my sloth shirt.

My breath hitched, because it was so cold.

"Sorry," Santana and me both said at the same time. She set the drink on the counter and scurried to find a bar towel.

I pinched the wet part of my shirt and peeled it away from my skin.

"I can't find a dry towel." Santana walked back. It looked like she thought this was the worst thing in the world.

"It's fine," I rubbed my fingers over the wet spot.

"Brittany!" Rachel called from the other side of the bar. She wanted me to come back and help.

I gave Santana a goodbye smile and then made my way over to Rachel. I helped a couple customers, both of which kept staring at my blue spots, and then I saw Quinn. She grabbed a few drinks Rachel had made and then took them out to a table. And then she went to the bathroom.

Quinn stayed in the bathroom for a long time. And then I saw Santana leave from behind the bar and for a second I thought she was going to follow Quinn to the bathroom, but then she just went up to the stage.

She was going to sing. Santana singing was one of my favorite things. Santana talking, Santana kissing, Santana anything. They were all my favorite. But now I felt a little weird for her being my favorite and for being so excited.

"Hey," Santana hummed into the microphone and her voice echoed over the crowd. I always loved when one of the girls talked over the crowd cheering. It made them look so important and I bet it made them feel important. "I wanted to sing a song for someone." I watched as Santana studied the crowd. It was weird how the stage was taller than everyone watching, but made Santana look so small. She cleared her throat. "For someone who feels lonely."

That was all she had to say for me to realize what she was doing. I couldn't believe it, but then I realized while I was having a hard time believing what Santana was doing, I was already racing towards the bathroom. My head was pounding. I needed to find Quinn and convince her to come out of the bathroom.

I wished she had at least been by the sinks when I slammed open the bathroom door, but she wasn't. I saw her feet underneath the second stall.

"Quinn?" I called as I heard the music start playing. Maybe she didn't need to see Santana. She could be in here and still listen.

She didn't answer. I didn't expect her too, I mostly said her name so she would know I was here.

I walked over and tapped my knuckles against her door. The music was so loud. It sounded distorted in the bathroom, kind of like we were listening to music underneath the water.

"Did you want to watch Santana with me?" I asked.

No answer.

"She's singing a song for you."

No answer.

"That's okay we can listen in here. I'll sit with you," I decided and then walked into the stall next to Quinn's. I sat on the toilet and I listened to Santana sing. It was pretty.

I was surprised I was smiling.

"You can hold my hand." I stuck my hand underneath the stall for Quinn. I didn't expect her to grab it, but that wasn't the point.

She started to cry. Broken, rough, soft cries. I really wish she had let me into her stall. But I guess if she had done that then she wouldn't be skyscraper-Quinn. She wouldn't be one of the strongest women I have ever known. "This song is about skyscrapers," I kept my hand out for her just in case she changed her mind. "Santana told me what it was about earlier." I heard Santana's song echoing in the bathroom, the music echoing, and I also heard Quinn's muffled cries. "It's about skyscrapers being really tall. Also about how people like noticeable things, but people also are intimidated by noticeable things too. It makes it really hard for skyscrapers. It's windy at the top." I knew I was mixing metaphors and Santana had said it better, but I kept going because I was already sitting on a toilet and I was already holding my hand out for her. I might as well say everything. I was so tired of not being able to say things. "Someday you will find someone that fits with you, Quinn. Skyscrapers need other skyscrapers."

Her voice bubbled and I barely heard her. "But you are a skyscraper."

I wasn't even close to being a skyscraper. "I'm not," I said in between a breath. It was so hard to not cry with her. I wanted to. So bad. But then I remember two people crying at the same time was scary.

"I'm with Santana," I said. That was hard to say to her. I didn't want it to be. I wanted her to like me and Santana and I wanted her to not be sad. But I was with Santana and I loved Santana.

I was just about to pull my hand back when she reached for it and held it. She grabbed my fingers and squeezed them in her fist. She said something and the only word that cracked through her throat that I understood was _lonely._

I waited and listened and kept making wishes that she wouldn't be so sad.

It was getting too hard to listen to her struggle. "I'll be an escalators in your skyscraper, if you want? I like being your friend."

She laughed. That was a good sign.

Santana was getting close to the end of the song, which meant people were going to come in and use the bathroom soon.

"You know," Quinn sniffled. "Holding my hand and being so sweet to me isn't going to convince me that you're not a skyscraper, you big cheese ball."

I laughed too. She pulled her hand away and I left my stall and waited by her door until she was ready.


	12. The Sponge

**a/n: hello! Sorry for the hiatus, personal life and things! But I am back to writing and I will update regularly. AND I did go back through all the previous chapters and edit. Nothing major has changed, it's still the same exact story, with the same concepts and events, but there are a few things you might notice if you were to reread it. It's not necessary that you do reread, but it might help to get you back into the flow of the story. It definitely helped me :) Anyways, enjoy! And thank you for your patience.**

**Chapter 12 : The Sponge**

My eyes were closed and my forehead was pressed against the window. It felt good. Each time Santana would drive over road bumps, it would feel like a brain massage. I wanted this road trip to last forever. I liked riding in the car and I especially liked it when she drove. It meant I was able to sit close to her and I didn't have to worry about which lane I needed to be in for future turning.

But listening to the road was making me more tired than I already was. I kept nodding off and having to snap my eyes open. I had spent the last few hours of work trying to figure out what Santana was planning for my birthday surprise and I wore myself out. Also it was exhausting to have conflicting emotions. After Santana's skyscraper song, I was glad Quinn had come out of the stall and given me a hug, but she never talked to Santana and she left work early.

Santana did say my surprise was something I would like. I liked lots of things, but there were only a few things that I really, really, liked. Santana was one of those things. "What if we just had sex the whole time?" I startled myself when I spoke. I snapped my eyes open and pulled my head away from the window.

"You can sleep if you want," Santana said. Even though the car was dark, I could see her smiling. She had bright teeth.

"That's okay." I yawned. I didn't want to sleep. Doing this was new. I never went places with people. I never went on vacation. And I have never had someone take me somewhere for my birthday. My family and I would eat cake and ice cream when I was younger, but that was always at home.

I pulled out my phone and started to look through it. At first it was helping, but then the glow started to make my eyes feel fuzzy. So I put my phone away. And then I grabbed Santana's phone. Hers was way nicer and I had games saved on it that I needed to finish. But then I started to fall asleep again, so I decided to talk.

I yawned before I started. "I'm tired."

"We're almost there," Santana responded. She should yell, not whisper. Maybe talking wouldn't help keep me awake, because her voice sounded extra soft.

The road noises probably made her voice sound extra soft. Just like how bubbles are particularly soothing when they're in a bath. Or like how bubbles on a car make it look particularly clean. Or how bubbles on Santana make-. Stop. I shook my head to wake myself up. I was falling asleep again.

"Did you talk to Quinn today?" I blurted a bit too loud and then wished I hadn't. Not that it was a bad question, or one that I didn't want to ask, because I did want to ask Santana about Quinn. "She left work early." I just didn't want to feel like I had felt earlier and I definitely didn't want to make Santana feel that way either.

"I didn't talk to her."

"She liked your song." I rested my head back on the window. Quinn wouldn't have cried if she hadn't liked the song. "Do you think she's still upset about what I said?" I mumbled the last part.

"What was that?" Santana's voice sung through the car.

I lifted my head off the window. Why couldn't I stay awake? I wanted to. "I'm awake, I promise."

She laughed. "I'll wake you up when we get close."

"We should stop at a gas station and get candy and energy drinks," I said and started to look for a road sign that meant a gas station exit was coming. But there weren't road signs, only trees. Lots and lots of trees. They looked like Christmas trees. "I bet you're taking me to the North Pole, because it's on my bucket list."

When I looked at Santana she smirked and shrugged.

I closed my eyes.

**xxxXXx**

It felt like my brain was having a heart attack. It started to pound and pound and pound. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, but it wasn't helping.

"Britt, we're almost there," I heard Santana's voice.

I didn't want to open my eyes. _Ouchie_. I shouldn't have tried to sleep on a window. Sleeping in cars was hard even if it felt like it should be easy. Also, I don't think I ever fell asleep, just kept getting close to it.

"Hey." Santana's hand squeezed my knee. She was gentle about it, because she thought I was still asleep. "Britt."

"Okay," I said and lifted my head from the window. It felt like it weighed a million pounds. _Pound, pound, pound_. I opened my eyes. There were still trees. I think we were in the same spot as before. Trees and trees and trees.

My stomach turned and growled. Not because it was hungry, but because it was empty. Or maybe I was hungry. I held my breath and waited for it to growl again. It did, super loud this time. I knew Santana heard it so I smiled before she looked over at me.

"Did you not eat at work?" She asked. And she looked upset.

"I wasn't hungry."

She nodded to herself. I could see her re-planning her plan. Each scrunch on her forehead counted for one point of stress and she had a million. I would have helped if it wasn't a secret from me.

"There's a store right up the road. We can stop there. Or there's some food at the cabin." She paused. She sounded anxious. "We can make something at the cabin. I have a lot of food there." She stopped. "Or the store? Whatever you want to do. Maybe the store would be better."

"Cabin?" I smiled. Wait…"Santana! You bought me a cabin?" I yelled so loud. She better not have bought me a cabin. That was way too big of a present.

"No," she laughed. "I didn't buy you a cabin. If I were to splurge and buy a cabin, it would also be mine." Her face fell. "I mean, that-," she glanced at me and then back at the road, "-just that it's expensive. Not that-." She swallowed the second half of her sentence and went back to driving.

She was definitely nervous about something. But it didn't last too much longer. Santana was good at knowing the parts of her she was showing people. She shook away her nerves and rolled her eyes. "I mean, yes. We live together now so sharing a cabin wouldn't be much different. In fact, it would put a healthy distance between Rachel-can't-help-but-stick-her-large-nose-in-everything Berry and me."

I smiled to myself. That would be way too long of a name. "I bet she has a hard time signing checks."

"Maybe she was right." Santana was talking to herself. "No. No." Santana rolled her eyes again. Now instead of looking anxious, she looked stressed.

"So you bought us a cabin?" I teased. I was trying to make her less worried and at the same time figure out what she was worried about.

She didn't hear me. And I didn't know I was pouting until she glanced at me and made the same exact face I was making. Only for a second though. "What was that? Sorry, Sweetie." She flicked her eyes back to the road and then back to me.

I liked when she called me names like that. It made me feel sweet. I think the only way to feel sweet was if someone told you to feel like that. One time she called me Honey and I kept imagining I was the honey inside of a beehive someone didn't remember was there, because when they saw the beehive they were too busy worrying about where the bees were at.

The car slowed down and the road got brighter. We were pulling into a parking lot. There was only one other car and lots of gas pumps. It would look creepy if it weren't for the giant cartoon donut stickers all over the store windows.

After Santana parked, she made a weird face at the donut stickers, but didn't comment on them. She shut the car off and turned to me. "We can pick up some things here."

I nodded and she shoved her keys in her purse. When I got out of the car, my legs felt sleepy. They didn't want to walk. They wanted to lie in a comfy bed and not move for a long time.

"Oomph," I grunted as I pushed the store's door open. It was heavy. Probably so people trying to rob had a hard time running away.

I had no clue what to get. I walked around with Santana for a few minutes looking at things with her and then I got distracted by the sodas. She got ice and I got a huge bag full of tasty treats. I wasn't sure what I was hungry for and I had more than enough tip money from tonight.

Santana said the cabin was only a couple of minutes away so I waited to open my food. The road to it was gravel, then dirt, and then there was a gate where Santana had to get out and put in a code. It opened and she drove towards a cute little house. It wasn't a cabin.

"Is that it?" I asked. It was way nicer than a cabin. It was way nicer than my house. I mean my dad's house.

"It's my father's cabin. We used to come out here for family reunions. Now it's been empty for months. He hires someone to come out here and tend to it every other weekend."

I wished I could see better, but it was so dark. The only light was from our car's headlights and the porch light hanging above the front door. And then the headlights turned off and the inside of the car lit up.

"This is cool," I picked up my bag of food from the floor. "Can we look around?" This was the last thing I had expected. Before she said _cabin_, I kept thinking my surprise was something crazy from my bucket list. The other day I had caught her looking at it. But after she said _cabin_, I thought we were going to a cabin. Not a house with a gate and other house parts.

From the look on Santana's face, she thought that was a horrible idea. "It's dark." She glanced around. "We can if you want, but we won't be able to see anything." She was trying to play it cool. It was cute.

"Your phone has a flashlight thing, right?" I asked. But now that I was thinking about it, she was right. It was dark. I did want to see her be brave though...

"Oh, uh-," she looked at her purse, "yeah. It does have a light."

"Then we should look around!" I smiled and at the same time tried to hide a teasing-smile. "It'd be fun."

She nodded. "Okay." She opened her door. "We can do that." She reached for the bag of ice in the back seat and climbed out of the car. "Hurry up inside though. I'm not sure if the neighbors tied up their dogs."

Dogs? "Hurry? Are they mean?" I asked the second I had climbed out of the car. I shut my door. She was already walking, fast, towards the house. I didn't like dogs. They were cute, but they also had sharp teeth. I guess cats had sharp teeth too, but dogs were bigger. "Santana?" I don't think she had heard me. "Why would he let them walk around without leashes?"

"He doesn't know we're here." She didn't turn to look at me.

"Can you call him about it?" I asked. She was already unlocking the front door as I ran up the porch steps. "That's really dangerous." Dogs bit and got hit by cars when they ran free. Especially the dogs in my old neighborhood. They used to get mad when I would walk by their house.

The door opened and she let me go in first. There was a lamp on a small table by the door, so I turned it on. The house was cute and so clean. It was like a miniature version of her parent's house. There was a fireplace, little couches, and TV stands with flower pots on top of them.

She shut the door. "The bedroom is this way."

I followed her. The room was tiny. Cozy. There was just a bed, a window, an old dresser and that was it. The walls were made of wood, so I guess it was kind of like a cabin. Santana flicked the light switch on and it turned on a lamp.

I sat on the bed and set my bag of food next to me. Sitting reminded me that I was tired. I hope Santana didn't think I was serious about looking around. I would much rather snuggle in bed. Besides, we couldn't look around anyways if there were stray dogs roaming.

Santana looked more tired than I did. She probably shouldn't have driven.

She started to leave. "Wait, where are you going?" I was half worried she was going outside and half worried she was going to sleep in a different room.

"Putting the ice in the fridge." She held up the bag and then turned and left.

I laid back on the bed and closed my eyes. It was soft. The sheets were red, which made me feel like I was lying on a bean bag, because Hailey used to have one that color. When we were little she would bring it in my room and sleep on it next to my bed.

My stomach rumbled so I blindly reached for my bag. I dug through it until I found the donut I bought and then I started to eat it. But then I had to lie on my side and eat it, because lying on your back and trying to swallow food was the best way to choke.

**xxXXXxxx**

I woke up. It was dark and I had to use the bathroom. But I didn't know where the light was. I wasn't even in my room. Where was I? No. I knew where I was. Where was Santana? "Santana…" I whispered her name.

I reached around for her. She was close and so I rested my hand her back.

"Hmm." She shifted, but didn't wake up.

I scooted as close to her as I could. Maybe having to pee would go away.

She was warm and definitely still sleeping. I started to play with her hair. She always slept with her hair down. I liked when she would braid my hair or let me braid hers at night.

I still had to pee. "Santana," I whispered again.

She wasn't going to wake up, but I could find the bathroom. It wouldn't be hard. I didn't need to wake her up. So I scooted away from her. Careful not to move the bed too much. And I moved extra slow, because I wasn't sure where things were. The only way I was able to find the door was because there was light coming in from the living room.

I squeezed out the door and clicked it shut behind me. The lamp was on and it was still dark outside. The cabin was one huge open room. The living room, the kitchen, and a few doors around the living room. My bag of food was sitting on the kitchen table and other than that, it was spotless.

The first door I tried was the bathroom. I switched the light on. There was donut frosting all over my cheek. I washed it off and then brushed my teeth with my toothbrush. Santana must have unpacked our stuff from the car.

When I left the bathroom I saw a present on the couch. It was a pink box. Seeing it made my heart flip, because I wanted to know what it was. Right now. But I also wanted to wait for Santana to give it to me. I peeked at it one more time and then I snuck back into the room and snuggled up to her.

**XXxxxx**

"I can't do it." Santana pulled her foot out from the boat and then walked a few steps away. But she returned. "I can't."

"Yes you can." I reached my hand out. "I promise it's easy."

She started to reach for my hand, rethought what that would mean, and then snapped her hand away and shook her head. "No. I can't. What if it tips over?" She looked so pained as she said that.

"It won't." I kept my hand out for her. "And even if it does we're in the shallow part and nothing will happen."

She wasn't convinced.

"What if I got out and let you get in first? I could hold the boat for you?"

She was almost convinced.

So I got out of the boat. My shoes were soaked, but that was okay because they were old tennis shoes. My feet sunk into the mud, but it was easy to pull them out. I dragged the boat closer for her and then held my hand out once more.

"You're not holding the boat." She didn't move.

I inched further into the water, until it went up to my knees. I grabbed the boat with one hand and reached for her with the other. "It won't move, I promise."

She took tiny, tiny, steps. She grabbed my hand before she stepped into the water. "Do I stand by you when I get in? Or get in at the shallow part?" She looked so torn.

I smiled to comfort her. "Wherever you want."

"Which is better?"

"If you don't want to get in the boat we don't have to." I squeezed her hand. "We can do something else."

She shook her head. "But you want to?"

I shrugged. "Not if you think it's scary."

She took a moment to decide. "It's safe, right?"

"It should be. As long as there aren't any alligators." I grinned.

She wasn't amused. I squeezed her hand. "It will be fine. You'll like it."

Finally she was convinced. She scooted her feet through the mud until she was standing next to me. At first she let go of my hand and then grabbed my arm. And then she let go of my arm and then grabbed the boat. And then she grabbed my arm again.

It was hard not to smile at her. It wasn't often she was like this. Usually she tried to be in control of her nerves, like last night, but now she was okay with being scared.

The boat didn't even move when she climbed in. I think she was a bit disappointed at it not being as dramatic as she thought it would be. She sat down and squeezed the boat-bench with her hands and waited for me.

I pulled and started to move the boat out to the deeper water.

"Brittany! No. Wait. What are you doing?" She was yelling.

I stopped. "I have to move it off the shore or we won't float."

She was shaking her head, no. "You have to get in first."

"Okay." I stopped moving the boat and then climbed in. She didn't like it. It rocked, a lot. She held her breath and her knuckles were white from squeezing. But then it stopped rocking and she let out her breath. "Are you okay?" I asked after I had settled.

She nodded.

"Are you sure you want to be on the boat?" I sat up. I was going to get back out.

She stopped me. "It's okay. We can. Just, don't let it tip over."

"Okay."

I used the little oar to move us into the middle of the lake. This had been her idea. She showed me the boat and then asked if I wanted to try it out. Of course I did. I had never been on a boat. So we dragged it all the way from the shed and then put it in the water. That's when she had started second guessing.

We made it to the middle of the lake, safely. I put the oar by my feet and then rested back on my elbows. It wasn't comfortable. But I didn't want to move the boat too much and scare her. "Ow." I eventually picked up my elbow and sat up.

"This isn't too bad," Santana said. She reached into the water and touched it with her fingertips. "Do you think there are fish in here?"

I had no clue. "Maybe." I mimicked her and reached into the water too. It was cold. The water near the shore hadn't been nearly this chilly. No wonder she was so worried about falling in.

She pulled her hand from the water and that's when I felt little tiny stings of water hit my face. "Santana!" I gasped and stiffened.

I was so tempted to splash a big wave at her, but the water was icky. I didn't want to get her dress dirty. So instead I bounced and made the boat move.

She screamed.

I stopped.

But then she laughed.

"Sorry," I still apologized. I hadn't meant to make her scream.

She was trying to look angry, but kept smiling.

We sat for a few minutes. She was making sure the boat wasn't going to move anymore and I was waiting for her to remember we were safe from the water.

"You can sit over here," I offered. The little bench I was sitting on was too small for the both of us though. I looked around, trying to figure out how she could fit next to me.

She must have figured it out, because she started to move towards me. And right away I could tell she wanted to go back to her bench. She was careful and the boat hardly moved, but her knees were shaking. Not that the boat would move much if she were to jump around, because she was small. Most people probably didn't notice how small she was, because they didn't get the chance to hold her hand or curl up next to her in a bed or have to lean down to kiss her.

One more step, she turned, and sat on the floor of the boat with her back to me. I lifted my feet to rest on the bench she had just been sitting on and she nestled further between my legs.

"Cute," I said it out loud. It was either cute or yay you made it and boat cuddling was way too cute not to say something.

With her so close I could smell her shampoo. And I could braid her hair like I had wanted to do last night. But her hair was so pretty and curled. I bet that was also why she was scared of falling in. She had spent forever getting extra pretty this morning. Besides old tennis shoes, she wasn't wearing adventure-through-the-woods friendly clothing.

I was about to start massaging her shoulders when she rested even further back into me.

"Want a massage?" I asked. I liked touching her and I knew she liked being touched. Sometimes at night time she would put her hand on my stomach and I would massage it. Or if we were sitting by each other at home she would cross her legs over my lap. And she always let me play with her rings, while they were still on her hands.

"Sure," she answered, but rested even further into me.

So I ran my hands over her chest.

I think I surprised her, because her breathing hitched. But she didn't move away. When I leaned over her, I saw her eyes were closed. Closed eyes were a good thing.

I put my hands back on her boobs and started to massage. It wasn't just her boobs though. I rubbed around her collarbone, her arms. I even leaned and reached for her hips a few times.

At first I was gentle, but now her body was warmed up and so I rubbed harder.

We weren't saying anything. I was too busy touching. I hadn't ever touched her boobs for this long.

My favorite part was when I would have to lean into her to reach for her hips or her thighs. Because then I was extra close when I went back to touching her chest.

"Can you take your jacket off?" I whispered into her hair. I didn't need to whisper. We were the only ones out here. But I did anyway.

She took it off and leaned back between my legs. I slid my hands down the top of her dress.

Her boobs fell out of her bra and her dress rolled down. My palms rolled over her nipples.

Whoa, I mouthed to myself. My thighs wanted to pinch together, but she was in between them. So they squeezed her instead.

I moved my hands so I could feel her nipples again. They weren't even close to being as soft as the rest of her skin.

I squeezed and massaged her chest. Hard. I could tell she liked it, because her hands kept hovering over her lap. And when they did rest on her lap they kept fidgeting. When she liked something she never knew where to put her hands and when I liked something I always wanted to put my hands in between my legs.

"Slow down Britt," she hummed after I had rocked into her back. I liked the way it made me feel down there and I had pushed longer and harder than I had meant to.

"Okay." I clenched between my legs and stopped grinding into her. Did I need to slow down completely? I should stop. I pulled my hands away and left her chest naked. I didn't want to do that, so I quickly moved my hand back to help her into her bra. It was a strapless one so it was easy. She pulled her dress back up and I helped her into her jacket.

My heart was racing. I was still turned on. But I had forgotten private things like this were for private.

Santana scooted back over to her side of the boat. She looked ruffled and she kept looking around. I looked around too, but nobody was here.

"Does the neighbor live over here? The one with the dogs?"

She was confused. What neighbor? Her face said it all. "Oh." She smiled and then relaxed. "No, no." She reached for my hand and I gave it to her. "We can finish this later. I just don't want any alligators creepin' on us."

I laughed. She didn't look as freaked out anymore so I relaxed along with her. I really had forgotten other people could see us. And I knew that was a crazy thing to forget, especially with what had happened yesterday.

"Do you know what time it is?" She asked.

I checked my phone. She had left her phone in the cabin since she had no pockets.

"It's almost five." That surprised me. We had been outside for a long time.

"We should go back and make dinner," she said.

She was cooking this time. I would help her stir things if she asked though. I picked up the little oar and started to move us back towards land.

"There's no neighbor, is there?" I narrowed my eyes at her. "And no dogs."

She held in her reaction and shook her head, no.

"Cheating," I mumbled.

"I'm sorry." She really did look sorry. But she didn't need to be. The pretend neighbor was something I should have realized way sooner. "I'll make it up to you." She ran her eyes over me, and then glanced at her boobs. "I'll let you play with my boobs as long as you want."

My cheeks instantly heated up. They got so hot. It was almost too hot to be called blushing. "You have to play with mine." I pouted and tried to push away some of the heat from my face, but it didn't work as well as I hoped.

She looked surprised I had suggested that. Now I knew for sure that she knew I liked to touch her the most. "After I give you your birthday present. Before." She paused to think. "During." She stopped talking.

When we got to the shore I climbed out first and pulled her and the boat closer. The cold water felt good and that's when I decided the real meaning behind people saying they needed a cold shower. It was hard to think about anything when water was so cold.

I helped her out. She wrapped her arms over my shoulders and hugged me until she was safe on the ground. We pulled the boat out of the water, but then Santana said to leave it for now. She grabbed my hand and we started to walk back to the cabin.

The entire way there Santana was quiet and walked fast. I kept an eye out for people who might have seen me touching her boobs, but there was nobody. There was only her car in the driveway, the gate was shut and no matter how much I looked I couldn't find another house. Not even cars drove by. So then I just figured she would feel better inside, because there were walls in between her boobs and other people's potential eyes.

We took our shoes off on the porch. Santana tried to get the mud off from around her ankles, but I had way too much mud all over my legs to even begin trying. I waited for her and when she finished I followed her inside.

My heart leapt out of my chest. There were people in here. At first I thought they were the neighbors, but then they yelled surprise and I saw Mercedes. I saw everyone. Also I screamed. It was a shocked scream that ended with being excited. Not the type of scream Santana did in the boat when she thought I was going to tip us over.

There were balloons, party hats, things hanging from the ceiling. People had those plastic mouth things that you blew in to and they unrolled like a tongue and made birthday-noises. Puck had two hats that looked like horns. Sam was holding a hat that he put onto my head after he walked over.

"Happy birthday little sugar bee!" He picked me up into a huge hug and spun me once. I kept waiting for him to sting me, but he never did.

Rachel gave me a hug next and then Mercedes. Puck gave me a beer. It wasn't opened yet so I held onto it.

I said hi to so many people. Even Mike, Tina's boyfriend, was here.

There was food on the kitchen table, beer and alcohol bottles spread on the counter, presents on the floor underneath the table. But I think my favorite thing was the streamers hanging from the ceiling. They made it look like it was raining pink.

Rachel was talking to me now. Santana was in the kitchen with the guys. I hadn't hugged her yet and I was excited to do that.

"You should try one of the hors d'oeuvres I brought. They're amazing. I spent all morning preparing them. My dads gave me the recipe after one of their business trips to Italy. You like dates, right? Of course you do."

Dates? As in raisins?

She kept explaining. "They're easy to make." I felt my eyes widen as she started to explain. Sometimes she talked too fast and maybe if my eyes were wider I would be able to catch more of what she was saying. "-the dates have to be cooked on a low heat-." I nodded. Over her shoulder I could see Finn peeking at us. "You will not believe what they are charging for pine nuts!" She yelled that part.

"What are pine nuts?" I asked.

But I spoke under her, because she was still talking. She kept explaining the food. I was lost and I was too distracted by everything and everyone.

"Finn is here," I said. I was quick so she could hear in between her sentences. "Did you talk to him yet?"

Her lack of response meant no.

"You should go say hi!" I encouraged her. And then I lowered my voice. "He keeps looking over here."

She shook her head. It was sophisticated. "I'm here for you, for your birthday, to celebrate, to have a good time. None of those things will happen if I spend even a second of my time speaking with him."

"Why not?"

She didn't have an answer.

"You should say hi to him, if you want to."

She looked over her shoulder, at the kitchen, and then back to me. "Did you open any presents yet?"

I shook my head.

"There you are!" Tina walked over and nudged me. I had already given her a hug and she had already said happy birthday, but that was okay. I liked Tina. I liked everyone here. She turned to Rachel. "Mercedes is asking for you in the kitchen."

"Is she mixing the punch?" Rachel panicked. "I specifically told her I would help her when she was ready." And the she darted off.

Rachel was particular about cooking things. She should be a chef.

"Here." Tina handed me two tickets.

I took them. Tickets for what?

She talked while I was reading them.

"Quinn asked me to give these to you. She couldn't make it," Tina explained.

They were tickets for Cedar Point, the dinosaur park. Why would she want to give them to me now? I was going to see her tomorrow at the house and later in the week at work. "Is she here?"

I knew she wasn't here. Tina wouldn't be giving these to me if Quinn was here.

Tina only gave me an apologetic smile.

"I'll be right back," I said and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

I went outside and I called her. But she wasn't answering. Her voicemail picked up and I hung up. I wasn't prepared to leave a voicemail. _Hey, where are you? _I could say that. I could just tell her to come out to the cabin. I dialed her number one more time.

But she picked up.

It startled me.

"_Hello_," she said.

"Hi," I responded. Now what? I was prepared for talking to a voicemail not her. "Where are you?" I said the only thing I knew to say.

"_Home_." She seemed fine. But some people were good at talking on the phone, because they couldn't be seen.

"Can you come to my party?" I wanted her to come. I didn't want her to be home alone. She would have fun here.

She didn't answer for the longest time. "-_Okay_."

Really? My entire body bounced with excitement. "Okay! Everyone is here. Even people I don't know. I think they're friends with Puck. But there is tons of food and beer. And there are spare bedrooms. You can have one if you want? Rachel made these pine raisins and she's making punch right now. It should only take you an hour to get out here, right? I'm not sure. I fell asleep on the way. Do you know where it is or should I ask Santana for directions?"

"_I know where it is_."

"Okay!" I yelled. The front door opened behind me and I turned to see who it was. Puck walked out on the porch. "I'll save you food. Everyone just got here so you have plenty of time to show up."

"Who's that?" Puck nodded at my phone. He lit a cigarette.

"Quinn," I answered.

"Tell her to park down the road after that stop sign. She'll see our cars." He inhaled smoke and then breathed it out away from me.

I went back to talking to Quinn. "Puck said to park after the stop sign by everyone else."

"_Okay." _

"See you soon!"

"_Bye." _

I hung up the phone. Puck held his cigarette out to me.

"Oh, no thank you." I waved at it. "I don't smoke."

He pulled the cigarette back to his lips, inhaled more, and then shook his head. "Nah, it's not a cigarette." He breathed the smoke towards me. That's when I smelled weed. "I was running low on cash so I mixed the rest of my weed with the tobacco in my cigarettes. It makes both last twice as long."

I eyed the cigarette. He held it out to me again.

"I'm not sure I want to get high." It hadn't been bad last time, but I kept thinking about when Quinn had called him immature for getting me high. If she was coming, I didn't want her to think anything bad. I wanted her to have fun.

"Pfft." He held it even further towards me. "Half of its tobacco. You won't get high. Buzzed. Maybe not even that. Besides it's your birthday. Live it up!"

I took it. Being buzzed was fine. And I wanted to do it. It was fun.

Music turned on from inside the cabin. Soft at first and then louder. Good. I liked music. I was going to suggest it earlier but I kept forgetting and hugging people instead.

"Do you want me to open that?" Puck asked and reached for the beer in my hand. I had forgotten about it. He took it, opened it, and then handed it back.

Instead of drinking, I smoked. I hadn't decided about drinking yet. Drinking felt weird, but I think it was just because I was thinking about it, not because it was bad.

I handed Puck the cigarette so he could take a turn smoking. Also it was harder to smoke that. Tobacco plus weed tasted weird.

"Thanks," he said and took it. He put it in his mouth. "So, what's going on with you and Santana?"

_Oh my God_. Did he see us on the lake? I didn't answer. I took a drink of my beer. "Hm?" I asked with a full mouth of warm beer. Gross. It was hard to swallow and impossible not to gag.

"It is what it is. I'm just curious." He shrugged one shoulder and took the cigarette out of his mouth. "I was snooping through the rooms earlier, because Santana sometimes has these expensive cigars and I was wanting to mix them with the weed 'cause I figured, hell," he let out a breath of smoke, "those expensive ass cigars and my cheap ass weed. That'd be way better than these," he nodded to the cigarette in his hand and handed it to me.

I nodded with him and drank more beer. And then I smoked the weed-cigarette.

"So I was snooping and I found a present she was going to give you. It was unwrapped though and hidden in her bag and the card was crumpled up and stuff." He took the cigarette back from me. I felt like I shouldn't be hearing this. She hadn't given me the present yet. "But whatever, I think it's hot."

"The present is hot?" I shouldn't have said anything. I wanted to take what I asked back. I had meant to change the subject, not continue it.

He nodded because his mouth was full of weed-cigarette smoke. "That too. But no. You and her. Together."

I looked at the front door. I wished there was a window in it so I could see inside. I wanted Santana to be out here too. I wanted to know what she thought about this and how she would react to him knowing stuff, because I wasn't sure. I knew what he had said. I just wasn't able to make a decision.

"But like I said, it is what it is. I'm just curious." He dropped the butt of the cigarette and stomped on it with his foot.

He was going to leave it, so I picked it up. I wasn't sure if her dad would come here some time and see it before a bird picked it up and used it as a chimney in its nest. I smiled to myself. And then I glared at Puck because he said I would only get buzzed.

"Okay," I answered him. It was okay? Of course it was okay. He thought it was okay. So, okay. "Cool."

He slung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me inside with him.

**XxxxxXxxXxXX**

**There are three kinds of givers - the flint, the sponge and the honeycomb. To get anything out of a flint you must hammer it. And then you get only chips and sparks. To get water out of a sponge you must squeeze it, and the more you use pressure, the more you will get. But the honeycomb just overflows with its own sweetness.**


	13. Things Certain People Don't Do, Like

**Chapter 13 – Things Certain People Don't Do, Like Caring or Crying**

I was outside again and it was freezing. To keep my teeth from chattering I had to clench my jaw, but that only made being cold louder. Why did nobody else look cold? I bet it was the lake. Water always makes me cold when it's nearby and I'm not in it.

I wasn't sure if I had followed people out here or if they had followed me. I guess it didn't matter. But Mercedes was out here and she wouldn't follow people. Santana wouldn't follow either. Nobody would. Being alone was lonely. One time Rachel said something about me being a sheep and that it was bad because I was doing things _just_ _because_ everyone else was. I wished I had told her that sheep didn't do things _just because_, but because that's what they were supposed to do. Instead I said something weird about sheep needing help when they fell on their back, because they couldn't get up by themselves.

We were all standing and talking. They were talking. I was standing by Santana. Santana was smoking. I kept almost asking her if she had a jacket, but I liked being out here with her and with everyone. I didn't want her to say _no_ and suggest we go inside.

Earlier when I had come inside after smoking with Puck, I snuck to the bathroom and rinsed my mouth out. I didn't want Santana to be worried. But then I realized I had no reason to be worried because now she was smoking one of Puck's weed-cigarettes.

She made a lot of things look easy. Smoking, folding laundry into fancy shapes, doing her nails, whistling with her fingers, and cracking eggs with only one hand. The last one didn't even seem possible, because her hands were small.

I held my hand out, palm up, and peeked at hers from the corner of my eye. Maybe my hands were _too big _to crack eggs. There was more yolk and stuff inside an egg than there was shell. Egg shells were tiny and delicate and that's exactly what her hands were like. Tiny and delicate. She looked at me. I was still staring at her hand. I looked away and stuffed my hand back in my pocket.

Ostrich eggs were _huge _though. My eyes widened and I smiled at the thought of Santana trying to crack one open.

I couldn't stop smiling, so I sucked my lips into my mouth. I was too distracted with not laughing to continue figuring out why Santana was good at doing things with her hands.

I widened my eyes and looked around at everyone. They hadn't heard that, right? I didn't want them to think I meant she was good at hand-sex things.

She was though.

"Hey, Britt." Santana got my attention.

_Uh oh_. There was no way she hadn't heard that last thought. I turned to her and reached for the cigarette she was holding. My heart started racing, so I acted normal and when people smoked in groups they normally shared cigarettes.

I was holding the cigarette, but she was still watching me. Why was she watching me? I peeked at her. She nodded to an envelope Finn was holding out towards me. "That's for you," she whispered.

Oh. What? I had missed something. Was that paper to roll more cigarettes? I didn't think it was the right kind of paper. After I had rinsed my mouth out earlier, I helped Puck make more half-weed, half normal cigarettes with little papers and then he said two of them were mine and gave me an empty pack to keep them in.

I pulled that pack out from my back pocket. Finn could just have one of mine. I didn't need two. And rolling new ones was hard, especially if he wanted to use the wrong kind of paper. "You can have one of these." I held the pack towards him.

He looked confused. Everyone did.

"It's a birthday card, Hun," Santana whispered and she took the card from Finn.

My first reaction was to look for Puck when she called me _Hun_. I hadn't told Santana what he said yet, but I hadn't had the chance. Maybe I could now.

"Where's Puck?" I asked. It would probably be easier to tell her if he wasn't watching. I couldn't find him and I was surprised he wasn't outside with everyone.

Santana glanced around and then brought her eyes back to me. "I'm not sure."

Pretty, big, pretty, brown eyes. She made me want make my eyes as bright as hers. But I couldn't. Mine felt heavy and hers looked warm and inviting. I smiled. I smiled bigger when I couldn't stop imagining eyes inviting people to do things. But it was true. Everyone thought it was the mouth that invited you places, but that wasn't always true.

"You have pretty eyes," I mouthed and she leaned in. I hadn't spoken nearly loud enough.

I didn't want to say it again. I could see Finn watching us. Did Santana know he was watching us? Maybe. She looked concerned about something.

It was hard to secretly ask Santana if it was okay that Finn was watching. Eyes couldn't ask questions that were _that_ long. Usually. So I just shrugged and brought the cigarette to my mouth. I had forgotten I was holding it.

But it hurt. It was hot. I dropped it.

Finn laughed, but only because I laughed. I stopped laughing though. It hurt my lip to laugh. I didn't understand why it had burned me. They never burned before.

"What happened?" Mercedes stepped closer.

Santana was crouched down and picking up the cigarette.

"It was hot," I mumbled.

My lips shook harder. The only reason I could think that they started shaking more was because they had been tricked. They thought they were going to get warm for a second, and then the heat had burned them.

Santana moved my chin to look at my lip. She looked angry, or extra-concerned. I couldn't tell the difference, because it was too dark outside. She thought I was hurt. I pulled away. I was fine. It didn't hurt anymore.

"It's fine." I stepped away. It really was fine.

When I moved my feet had stepped first and then my body moved into them. It was weird. The last time I had smoked with Puck, it had felt like I had a warm towel wrapped around my brain and it didn't feel like that now.

I peeked back at Santana and she was still frowning. I didn't like it. I wanted to tell her about sheep to make her feel better, because it made me feel better, but my throat cracked and I made a weird noise. It hurt and I swallowed it back down. There was too much pressure in my lungs and I couldn't hold it down. But after that noise, I was fine. Way more than fine.

Santana had picked up that cigarette, right? I looked for it. I started to crouch, but someone grabbed my elbow. They pulled me up fast and so I ducked. I didn't want hit my head on the roof.

They stopped pulling me up and I reached back down to find the cigarette. I went slow this time, so nobody thought anything of it. It's just that there was a space in between the boards of wood and that was the best hiding place for cigarettes to roll into.

"Dude, why are you freaking out?" I heard Puck laugh. Was he talking to me? "She's high. So what."

Someone grabbed my hand and slipped their fingers to fit between mine. Santana. She was holding my hand. I could tell, because her hand was small and we always held hands at night in bed. I stood back up. She was warm.

Puck said something I didn't hear.

"Fuck off," Santana hissed at him. It startled me.

They were talking about something. I tried to listen, but I was more concerned with when he had walked outside. It must have just happened.

I was walking inside with Santana. She was still holding my hand and I followed her into the bathroom_._

She shut the door behind us and turned the light on. This was the only room in the whole cabin that didn't have a lamp. It had a Marilyn Monroe mirror with lights that were waybrighter than the porch light had been. I could barely keep my eyes open.

I set my beer on the counter. It was empty. I had only had two beers. I was making sure not to drink too much. But maybe it didn't matter anymore since I was high. I shrugged to myself. I wasn't sure.

Santana turned on the water and I put my hands underneath it. At first it was freezing, but then it got warm. Really, _really_, warm. The water made a pool in my hands and then I spread my fingers to let the pool drain. After a few pools my palms were fire red. It was weird that blue water made hands red.

"Here," Santana hummed and moved a rag underneath the water. She dropped the rag and snapped her hands away from the water. I watched her ball up her fist and curse under her breath. I should have told her the water was hot. After she turned the hot water off, she soaked the rag, rung it out, and then moved it towards my lip.

It stung. My bottom lip felt raw. The rag was rougher than sandpaper. And then I saw a black smudge on the rag. Was that from my lip?

The tip of my tongue hurt too. My taste buds felt like they were being pulled off.

"Wait," I pulled away. "It's too hot."

"The rag is cold, Britt." Santana watched me. She was waiting. She was so patient. But she never looked impatient with anything I did.

I still wasn't sure what had burned me and why we were in here.

I looked in the mirror and I didn't see anything bad. My eyes looked foggy, there were bags underneath them, my hair was going in wrong directions, but other than that I _was _fine. There was spot just below my lip that was pink, but that was it. I stuck my tongue out and my tongue was fine. It felt like it should be burnt, but it was fine. Exactly like a hot-chocolate-burn.

I watched myself scrunch up my face. I was scowling. I didn't think I was upset enough to be scowling.

When I looked at Santana's reflection in the mirror, she was smirking at me. It instantly melted the scowl I had on my face into something warmer.

"Does it hurt?" she asked. I think she was looking for me to talk. I hadn't said anything yet.

I shrugged, but at the same time I shook my head, _no. _"No," I said, remembering to talk. "A little." I changed my mind. It did hurt a little, but we could go back out. Using rags made it hurt more.

She patted the counter with her hand, twice. "Hop up," she directed me.

I did. The counter wasn't tall. I didn't even need to jump.

Santana moved in front of me, in between my legs. She was looking at my lip again and still smirking. My brain was flipping and flipping, trying to figure out what she was smirking at. Her eyes looked puffy, probably from being tired and smoking. Still inviting though. And they weren't anywhere near as red and swollen as my eyes. And her lips looked puffy. Her lips were always puffy.

She leaned into me and put her lips on my neck. I could feel them slipping over my skin. Then her tongue. It was a weird feeling. Like pulling seaweed over my neck. That thought sent chills down my back. Why was I thinking about seaweed? I got more chills. Good chills? Yes. I smiled, hummed, and let my body relax into her kisses.

My neck kept getting wetter. It felt good. She was warm and she smelled nice. I wanted her to kiss my neck forever. Maybe she would. She would if I said I wanted it for my birthday.

Now I was smirking.

I wanted it to be just us here. The bathroom door was shut and we were the only ones that could see each other, but other people were here. Other people were distracting. I could hear them outside. It made it hard to focus. The butterflies in my stomach were forgetting to keep turning. They didn't want to get interrupted and I think it was partly because I knew Santana didn't want to be interrupted.

I wanted to open up her pink present and massage her boobs and I wish she hadn't invited people yet. Maybe tomorrow would have been better for a surprise party.

I shook my head. _Stop_. Why was I complaining and blaming her? No. I wasn't blaming her for anything. I was just thinking. It was true that we couldn't do sex-things when other people were here. Maybe. Other people made our relationship more confusing and I wanted it to be easy.

She stopped kissing my neck. I opened my eyes and she looked confused. It wasn't the look I had been expecting.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her eyes darted across every inch of my face, even to my hands a few times. Now she looked worried. And if she kept looking that hard at me, she was going to be able to read my thoughts.

Was she okay? She was acting weird. Or I was acting weird. I couldn't tell.

"Does your lip hurt?" She grabbed the rag again. Gently, she pressed it to my lip.

"What's happening?" It was meant to be about me jumping from weird thoughts to weirder thoughts, but after I said it I knew it wasn't specific enough_. _She couldn't read my mind even when it felt like she could. "My lip is fine." I repeated myself.

Her eyes darted to the door and then back to me. She smiled and cocked her head. "It would be better if you hadn't put the cigarette in your mouth backwards." She ran her thumb over the bottom of my lip. And then she kissed the burned spot, carefully. It was sweet. I should burn my lip more often.

"We should go back out on the lake," I suggested. Being alone with her was making me really, really wish we were alone. "Isn't this the only bathroom? What if someone has to pee? And Quinn is going to be here soon." I didn't want to have invited Quinn and then not notice when she got here, especially after I had said something mean to her last night.

Santana's eyebrows scrunched together.

"Oh, or not the boat. It's probably scarier when we can't see the water."

She started to say something, but she never said it.

I waited. It felt like a long time. Maybe it wasn't a long time, but she was looking at my lip again.

"My lip is fine," I told her. I reached my hand up and touched it.

The corners of her mouth tightened.

"You came in here to help take care of my lip?" It was a dumb question, but I asked it anyways. I wanted us to be on the same page and I was starting to feel like we weren't.

"You told me you didn't want me taking care of you."

_Oh_. The bathroom got quiet. I shifted my eyes to the door, and then back to her. She was upset. I knew the last place she wanted to be upset was here and now. But she was and now she was going to start making it so she wasn't. I could already see her trying to feel better.

Neither of us were talking. I wanted to give her a hug, I wasn't sure why. Touching was better than not touching. Also hugs were for helping others keep their feelings in when they couldn't hold them in by themselves.

Finally she said something. "I wanted to get away from everyone for a few minutes. I figured we could _hang out_ in here." She smirked again, but it quickly faded. "I wanted to spend time with you, alone."

"Then why did you invite people?" I hadn't meant to say it. Yes I had. I just hadn't meant it to come out the way it had. I meant, if she wanted to have alone time, then it would have been easier without a whole bunch of people here. "I mean-." The look on her face was making me panic. "I don't know why you invited people." The look on her face still didn't change. "I'm sorry, I don't mean it that way. I mean, it would have been okay if it was just you and me for my birthday." I said everything quiet, thinking the softer something was, the better it would feel.

"Should I tell them to leave?"

What? No. I shook my head. I was too scared to say any more.

She shrugged and I could see her getting fired up. "I can do that. I can go out there and tell them all to leave if you want me to. Or maybe I can leave."

She tilted her head and shrugged again. She thought her leaving was a good idea. "I don't know what you want. What do you want? I know _everyone _else's opinion about everything, I know what _they _want me to do, but what do you want? All night Puck has been sending me texts-." She pulled out her phone and held it up for me to read a black screen. "-Texts asking when we're going to make out, encouraging me to stand closer to you, hold your hand." She held the phone out to me and I took it. I didn't want to read texts like that if they upset her so much so I set the phone on the counter next to me.

"Rachel," Santana laughed, but it was fake. "She would not shut up about how inappropriate she thought my present was." The pink present? "And now Quinn is coming so she can give even more of her opinion."

I think Santana had cracked. She was overworked, exhausted, and sometimes people get cracks when they give so much away. It was hard to watch her fight with herself. She was trying so hard not to let anymore out, but it wasn't working.

"Do you want to spend time with Quinn? She is-" Santana cut herself off.

I was half a breath away from saying something before I stopped myself. I wasn't sure if it was okay to say something _silly _right now when this felt serious. But she was Santana so I think it was okay to say whatever I wanted. "I was watching this cartoon at your house and this guy had a barrel full of apple juice..." I slowed down. I looked up at her. She was trying to slow herself down and make herself look patient like she had been seconds earlier. So I continued. "He had apple juice that he wanted to share with someone, but too much was in the barrel and it was shooting out of these cracks." When I gestured with my hands, her eyes widened. "He had to hug the barrel and cover all of the cracks." I mumbled the last part quietly.

It was too hard to tell what she was thinking and it was harder to process everything she had just said. I didn't know where to start.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

Someone knocked on the door. "Hello?" It was Rachel.

"Fuck," Santana cursed. She flung open the door.

Rachel froze mid-knock. The door had almost hit her.

"I'm going to check on everyone," Santana told me, then turned to the door. "Moo-ove." She flicked her hand at Rachel.

Rachel stepped aside and Santana squeezed past her.

I left the bathroom too. I wanted to stay in the bathroom longer, but Rachel didn't like it when other people were nearby while she was peeing. I went and stood in the middle of the cabin, but there were too many people. They were stealing all of the air in the cabin. It was hard to think when it was hard to breath.

So I went outside and I sat on the ground against Santana's car.

The gravel scratched the back of my thigh and some of it got up the legs of my shorts. It was still cold and being inside of her car would be better, but it was locked. That was okay though, it wasn't too bad being outside. It was easier to breath. And if I was in a warm car, I would probably fall asleep.

I didn't want to fall asleep. I just wanted to talk to Santana. But I couldn't talk to Santana unless I figured out how to have a conversation without talking about cartoon barrels of apple juice.

I would let the cold wake up my brain, and then I would go back inside and ask Santana if she wanted to go to the bathroom with me again.

A car drove up. I could hear the gravel crunching underneath the tires. I peeked around Santana's car to make sure it wasn't Quinn, and it wasn't. I rested my head back against the door and listened. The car parked, the brakes squeaked and the tires skidded. Someone was in a hurry. Their car door opened and then slammed shut and I heard the gravel crunching louder as their steps got faster.

Another car pulled up and skidded the same way. Maybe it was just hard to park on gravel.

I was too tired to look this time. I would count to ten and when I looked they would already be at the front door of the cabin and I could see if it was Quinn. Until then I would keep my eyes closed and rest.

Someone crouched in front of me. I opened my eyes. Sam. How did he find me? I was supposed to be hiding.

"We need to go." He put his hands under my arms and started to lift me.

_What?_

"Go where?" I asked. I didn't want to stand. I wanted to sit down. I wasn't ready to go anywhere and he was making it hard to breath by squeezing against my ribs.

We stood. My legs were shaky and my butt was numb. I tried to sit back down, but he crouched, wrapped his arms around the back of my thighs, and picked me up so I was hanging over his shoulder.

I grunted. "What are you doing?" I kept grunting with each step he took. Did something bad happen? No. I knew something hadn't happened. I was high, not drunk. I remembered walking down the steps, I remembered sitting against Santana's car, and waiting. I remembered everything. "Put me down," I barely could talk. It was hard to say things when I was being carried like potatoes.

I could hear yelling inside the house. I tried to look, but Sam was walking the wrong way.

"They're yelling," I said. My chin bounced against his back.

"Stop squirming." He hugged my legs tighter. I didn't stop. "Brittany, stop or I'll drop you."

Santana was yelling. And I heard Quinn. Why was she here? And I heard a boy. And then Puck. There was too much yelling for me to understand any of it. Way too much. And the music was still loud. Sam needed to let me go. Now.

We stopped moving. He opened the door to his car, dropped me in the passenger seat, and slammed the door shut. It rattled everything inside of my body.

I could have gotten out. I was going to. But then I saw the door to the cabin bust open and Puck push someone out. Dave? He was here.

I locked my door.

Dave stumbled, but didn't fall on the ground. Almost. He caught his balance, stormed back up the porch, and swung at Puck.

What was happening? Where was Santana? She was hiding. She had to be. She was smart.

But where was she?

Sam opened the driver door and got in. He would tell me where Santana was.

"Where's Santana?"

"She's fine." He didn't look at me. He started the car instead.

"What are you doing?" I reached for the key, but he pushed my hand away. I thought we were going to hide in the car, not go anywhere. "I don't want to leave."

"We have to." Sam fought to keep my hand away.

I could get out. There was no way I was going to get the key from him. I reached for my door and he leaned over and grabbed my hands. "Stop, Brittany. Santana told us to go."

I pulled away hard. Hard enough to knock my elbow against the door frame. It hurt, but I pretended it didn't. He cuffed both of my wrists with only one of his hands, and then started to put the car into gear.

I twisted. I wasn't leaving. I turned in the seat and pushed my feet into his side.

He cursed and again told me to stop.

My door opened and I nearly fell out. The back of my head hit someone's chest. I knew who it was. It was him. He knew we were in here, because the car was on, and now he was going to drag me out.

"Calm down." It was Quinn.

I did. But only because she was here and she wasn't Dave. She would know I didn't want to leave. She knew about me and Santana. She knew everything. Sam didn't.

"I'm coming with you." She started to get in the front seat with me.

No. We couldn't leave.

She hugged her arms around me to try and make me stop squirming. Sam put my feet back on my side of the car, and Quinn shut the door behind her.

"She's still kinda out of it," I heard Sam. He was talking about me.

I wasn't. I was angry. They weren't listening.

Quinn inched closer to me and squeezed tighter as Sam started to drive away. She said something. I ignored her. I looked for Santana. But the only people outside were boys. Puck, Dave, Finn.

They must have told me to calm down at least a million times. I couldn't make myself stop, even if I wanted to. I kept squirming. Quinn told me it was fine. She said Santana was fine. She said Santana's dad was coming to the cabin and that Santana asked if they could take me home. She said Santana was coming home too. I believed her and knew it would probably be fine, but I never stopped squirming. I wanted to stop. I was getting cramps.

When we got to the house, she opened the door and I pushed us out. I almost pushed us to the ground.

"Sorry," I breathed.

Now that I was out of the car I didn't know what to do. I didn't have my phone, or my keys, or my purse. I had nothing.

"Can you please drive me back?" I asked Quinn. I couldn't believe how angry I was. They can't just take me places. And even though I was angry, I tried not to look angry or sound angry. I held my breath and waited for her to say she would take me back.

"Santana is on her way, Sweetie." Quinn stepped toward me.

"Don't call me that," I hissed under my breath. I didn't know if she had heard me and I turned and started towards the house before I could find out. I didn't want to see her reaction if she had heard, and I didn't want to stay and have her ask me to repeat myself.

She was following behind me. "It's locked, Brittany, I need to open it for you."

I tried the door anyways. It was locked. Quinn unlocked it and I went straight for my bedroom. I was going to get a spare key for my truck and drive back.

I opened the bedroom door and dropped my arms when I remembered my truck wasn't here. So I sat on my bed. I didn't know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do, I just couldn't figure out how to do it.

I was going to get up and go wait in Santana's room. Sitting in my room felt like I had gotten in trouble and had been sent here, like a child.

"Hey," Quinn poked her head in my room.

I didn't respond. I was still angry. If I talked to her when I was angry I would say mean things.

"Santana is on her way, I promise. She just needs to talk to her dad and then she'll come straight here."

That made me feel better. Not a whole lot, but a little. "Okay," I mumbled. I was getting tired again. More so than I had been when I was sitting outside of the cabin. Now I was tired and frustrated. I still didn't want Quinn around me, but it was too hard to think of a way to ask her to leave.

"She's going to be fine," Quinn said and she was in my room now. I wasn't going to look at her. I had my face resting in my hands and my eyes shut. "The boys are dealing with Karofsky."

I nodded. _Whatever. _

The bed shifted. She was sitting by me. I felt awful, because I wanted her to be Santana. I never before wanted her to be that, but now I did. I just wanted Santana here.

I moved and laid down so my head was on her lap. That way I would wake up if she left the room.

"Can you wake me up in ten minutes?" I asked. I knew I wasn't going to stay awake much longer.

"Sure."

**Xxxxx**

My stomach was being noisy. I was hungry. But I was almost there. I was on her street.

Santana had never come home. When I woke up it was the morning and I was still on my bed with Quinn. I had gotten up, careful not to wake Quinn, and then I raced into Santana's room. But her bed was perfectly made and empty. Her car wasn't in the driveway either.

I borrowed Quinn's car. I felt bad for taking it without asking, but it was easier than waking her up. I left her a note saying I would fill her gas tank before I got back and I would be fast. I was going to check Santana's house. That was all. If she wasn't in her house, then I would come back, wake Quinn up, find out when she worked, and then see if I could take her car to the cabin.

Being hungry was good. It made me feel less complicated. Like, if I could eat, I wouldn't be hungry. If I could find Santana, then I could ask questions. Simple. I didn't worry about what questions to ask yet. Any question was fine.

I pulled down the road to Santana's parent's house. Her car was in the driveway. It felt good to see it. The nerves in my stomach fluttered away. But that just made room for me to be even hungrier.

My eyes were heavy, like I had cried way too much last night, and I was moving slow. It had to be because I was unsure. It was confusing. I couldn't decide on exactly what to be unsure about, I just knew I was.

I parked behind Santana. It was the spot I had always parked in when I stayed here before. Santana's little cousin, Marcus, would always use his chalk to draw a blue circle around my truck and when I would leave he would fill in the circle with pictures. Now there was no pictures to park over.

_Find Santana. _That was all I had to do.

I knocked on the door once. I felt weird knocking. I had never knocked before. There was no answer, so I went inside.

Nobody was in the house. It was clean, warm, smelled amazing, but it was empty. No purses were on the coffee table behind the couch and even if Santana's mom was outside, I would hear her music. She always played music when she was doing things outside.

Santana's car was here though. And there was another car in the driveway. The house shouldn't be empty. I peeked up the stairs and saw all of the bedroom doors closed. Marcus wasn't allowed to close the door when he was in a room, but Santana could close her door. She could be in her room.

She didn't have a room here anymore. I stopped on the third step. Santana wasn't going to be in an empty room. So I went to the kitchen, because that was the only place left in the house.

There were leftovers on the counter. Maybe I wasn't hungry. Food didn't sound like a good idea. Nothing sounded like a good idea. Not being able to find her was giving me too much time to think and fully wake up. Before I had been busy with being sneaky and borrowing Quinn's car, and then driving here, and now I was here.

What now? Something bad probably happened last might.

That thought scared me, and so I stopped thinking it. As soon as I saw Santana, everything would be fine. I nodded to myself. There was a reason she wasn't at the house this morning. Something wasn't right. But she _was_ here. Her car was here. I nodded to myself with more confidence, I just need to find her.

I saw someone in the backyard. I walked to the window, stood on my tippy-toes, and peeked out the window above the sink.

Santana's dad was the first and only person I saw. I wished I could remember his name. I knew it was something I should remember. He was important to Santana.

He was sitting at the outside table, wearing mechanic clothes and his hands were dirty. I bet he had been working on his cars.

I heard Santana. I couldn't see her, but I heard her. "You must have said something to him." She was talking to her dad, because he looked up. I wanted to see her. I scooted and leaned as far as I could, but she was around the side of the house.

"Watch your tone." He warned. He was powerful, but still quiet.

There was a long silence of nobody saying anything.

What were they talking about? I felt weird eavesdropping, but I didn't want to interrupt their conversation. Santana would come inside any second, and then I could make sure she was fine.

"She is taking over your life." Her dad eventually continued.

"She is _part _of my life." Santana's voice was twice as shaky as it had been before.

_Me?_ My heart started to race. I tried even harder to see Santana. It was hurting my ankles to push myself up on my on my toes so tall. But I had to find her.

Her dad shook his head. He looked angry and disinterested at the same time. There was another long pause before he continued. "She's stripping you of your independence. What happened to the daughter I raised? The Santana I knew would _never _compromise her education or her reputation for a relationship with a boy, let alone one with a _girl._"

My heart was pounding in my ears. Soon enough it would be too loud to hear them.

"_You_ didn't raise me," Santana snapped.

Her dad continued speaking as if she hadn't said anything. "Is it because I left your mother?" And then he started talking in Spanish. Both of them did.

I tried so hard to catch on to what they were saying, but I couldn't. They spoke too fast and I didn't recognize any of the words. The longer they talked in Spanish the more uncomfortable I felt. I knew I should leave. I didn't even understand what was being said.

And then he started crying. _What?_ It wasn't for very long. Maybe it didn't count as crying, because he cried the same way he acted around Santana. At first it was angry, and then it was nothing. He cleared his throat.

_He wanted his daughter back. _That's what he was able to get out before his voice shook, cracked again and he stopped talking.

My body sunk into itself and I sunk back down off of my toes. If it were possible, I would have wanted to sink all the way through the floor. Making someone cry was a gross feeling. Especially someone who wasn't supposed to cry. I have never heard my dad cry. Most dads don't cry, ever. I didn't know why.

"If it's because you're mad that I left you and your mother, then I will come back-." He stopped talking because he was running out of breath. His voice wasn't shaky anymore though. It was powerful. "Making it so your mother had to tell me about your relationship with _her_ is cruel, Santana. It's cruel to your mother. What you're doing is selfish."

I shouldn't be hearing this. At all. So I left. I walked out of the kitchen, ran to Quinn's car, and I sat in the driver seat. I couldn't decide if I wanted to leave or not. I hadn't seen Santana yet.

There was a knock on my window. It scared me. I was out of breath or I would have screamed.

It was Santana's mom. She smiled and waved at me. "What are you doing here, Honey?" She was holding a grocery bag. She must have just pulled up.

I didn't want to tell her.

"Come inside, I'll make you breakfast." She started to the front door.

I shook my head. I started the car and I left.


End file.
